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OF    THK 
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PRINCETON,   N.  J. 

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SAMUEL    AGNEW, 

OF     PHILADKI.  PHIA.     PA. 

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'  BX  7260  .B795  L4  1851       i 
Lee,  Eliza  (Buckminster ) 

1794-1864. 
Memoirs  of  Rev.  Joseph 

Buckmins  ter  .  D_.  D .  •  and  o f 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2009  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://www.archive.org/details/memoirsofrevjoOOIeee 


>^ 


^-^"J  ^^ 


MEMOIRS 


KEV.  JOSEPH  BUCKMINSTER,  D.  D., 


AND    OF    HIS    SON, 


REV.  JOSEPH  STEVENS  BUCKMINSTEE. 


ELIZA  BUCKMINSTER   LEE, 


SECOND    EDITION. 


BOSTON: 

TICKNOR,    REED,    AND    FIELDS 

MDCCCLI. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1851,  by 

TICKNOR,    HEED,    AND    FIELDS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Oifice  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


THUKSTON,  TOKRy,  AND   EMERSON,   PRINTERS. 


PREFACE. 


It  may  very  naturally  be  asked,  Why,  if  the  lives 
of  the  persons  whose  memoirs  are  contained  in  the 
following  pages  possessed  an  interest  for  the  com- 
munity, the  silence  of  nearly  forty  years  should 
have  remained  undisturbed  upon  their  memory  ?  On 
the  other  hand,  it  may  be  asked,  Why  are  the  seals 
now  broken,  and  the  veil  of  domestic  privacy  with- 
drawn which  concealed  features  composed  in  the 
unchangeable  beauty  of  death  ?  The  history  of  the 
book  is  simply  this.  About  fourteen  months  ago,  I 
was  requested,  by  a  gentleman  well  known  to  the 
literary  and  religious  public,  Rev.  Dr.  Sprague  of 
Albany,  to  furnish  some  recollections  of  my  father 
and  brother  for  a  work  which  he  is  preparing  for 
the  press,  — '  Annals  of  the  American  Pulpit,  or 
Biographical  Notices  of  Eminent  American  Clergy- 
men of  various  Denominations.' 

In  recurring  for  that  purpose  to  letters  and  papers 
which  had  fallen  into  my  possession  as  the  hearts 


IV  PREFACE. 

that  dictated  and  the  hands  that  wrote  became  cold 
in  deatJi,  but  which  a  sentiment,  understood  by  every 
heart  of  sensibility,  had  suffered  to  remain  undis- 
turbed for  so  many  years,  it  seemed  to  me,  as  I 
read  them  anew,  that  they  contained  much  which 
should  not  be  willingly  suffered  to  die,  —  that  they 
might  touch  other  hearts, — and  that,  as  the  blessed 
dews  and  rain  do  not  return  merely  to  the  fountains 
and  rivers  from  which  they  are  drawn,  but  are 
diffused  in  showers  which  revive  distant  places,  so 
these  letters  also,  intended  only  for  private  instruc- 
tion, might  counsel  some  other  son,  or  encourage 
the  heart  of  some  other  parent. 

In  preparing  the  memoir  of  my  brother,  I  have 
been  able  —  through  the  excellent  arrangement  of 
his  papers  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and  the  almost 
reverential  care  of  his  friend,  Mr.  George  Ticknor, 
to  preserve  even  the  smallest  fragment  from  his 
pen  —  to  present  of  him  nearly  a  complete  autobio- 
graphy. The  thread  with  which  I  have  connected 
the  memorials  from  his  own  pen  may  seem,  to  those 
who  have  never  heard  of  him,  heavy  and  overcharged 
with  eulogy,  while,  to  the  few  surviving  friends  who 
enjoyed  his  intimacy,  the  portrait  I  have  endeavored 
to  fill  up  will  appear,  if  not  incorrect  in  its  outline, 
cold  and  faint  in  its  coloring. 

The   delicacy  and   reserve   which   I   have   felt   in 
endeavoring  to  present  to  the   public,  in  their  true 


PREFACE. 


light,  the  characters  of  relatives  so  near  in  blood 
and  so  precious  to  memory,  has  been  in  some  degree 
lessened  by  the  years  that  have  removed  their  be- 
loved forms  from  my  sight ;  but,  as  I  have  receded 
from  them  in  time,  I  have  been  able  to  approach 
nearer  to  them  in  the  true  appreciation  of  their 
characters.  As  we  look  back  upon  the  long  past, 
the  venerated  forms  of  early  life  rise  up  again,  and 
through  the  suffering  of  our  own  souls  we  come  to 
an  understanding  of  theirs,  as  the  sun  at  last  shines 
through  the  tears  of  a  cloudy  day,  and,  as  it  ap- 
proaches its  setting,  reveals  those  who  began  life 
with  us  in  all  the  rainbow  beauty  of  the  morning 

sky. 

E.B.  L. 

MAY  15,  1849. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I. 

PAGE 

Ancestry  of  Dr.  Joseph  Buckminster  in  England  and  in 
America 1 

CHAPTER  n. 

Joseph  Buckminster. —  Childhood. —  Education  and  Residence, 
as  Tutor,  at  Yale  College.  —  Form  of  Religious  Faith.      .     .       10 

CHAPTER  m. 

Mr.  Buckminster's  Settlement  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire. 

—  Reminiscences  of  the  Piscataqua  Association  of  Ministers. 

—  Their   Meetings.  —  Missionary   Magazine.  —  Prayer-book 

for  the  Use  of  Families 28 

CHAPTER   IV. 

Portsmouth.  —  Peculiarity  in  its  Early  Settlement  and  its  So- 
ciety.—  Its  AVealth.  —  Personal  Recollections.  —  Mrs.  Tap- 
pan,  Dr.  Buckminster's  Sister 37 

CHAPTER  V. 

Marriage  of  Mr.  Buckminster.  —  Character  and  Anecdotes  of 


Vm  CONTENTS. 

Dr.  Stevens.  —  Death  of  Mrs.  Buckminster.  —  Depression  of 
Spirits.  —  Second  Marriage.  —  Joys  and  Trials 55 

CHAPTER   VI. 

Early  Development  of  the  Character  of  his  Son  Joseph.  —  Let- 
ters between  the  Father  and  the  Son. —  Exeter  Academy.      .      71 

CHAPTER  VH. 

Joseph  enters  College.  —  His  Character  as  a  Student.  —  Letters 
from  his  Father 87 

CHAPTER  Vra. 

Joseph  S.  Buckminster.  —  Assistant  in  Exeter  Academy. — 
Theological  Studies.  —  Method  of  Study.  —  Letters.      ...     113 

CHAPTER  IX. 

J.  S.  Buckminster.  —  Residence  at  Waltham.  —  Theological 
Studies.  —  Correspondence  with  his  Father  upon  his  Reli- 
gious Opinions,  and  upon  his  Entrance  on  the  Ministry. — 
Purpose  of  Relinquishing  his  chosen  Profession 131 

CHAPTER   X. 

Character  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  Preaching.  —  Extracts  from  his 
Sermons.  —  Letters 156 

CHAPTER  XI. 

Joseph  S.  Buckminster.  —  His  Theological  Studies.  —  Corres- 
pondence.—  His  Invitation  to  Brattle  Street  Church.  —  His 
Ordination 189 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER  XII. 

Extracts  from  Sermons.  —  Illness.  —  Music.  —  Letters.    .     .     .    204 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

Ordination  of  a  Classmate.  —  Monthly  Antliology.  —  Anthology 
Club.  —  Journal  of  Studies.  —  Letters 226 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

Journal  of  J.  S.  Buckminster  in  London.  —  Journal  and  Letters 
upon  the  Continent 261 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Mr.  Buckminster's  Return  to  Boston.  —  Increased  Ardor  in  his 
Studies.  —  Friendship  and  Attachment  to  Mr.  Walter. — 
Grief  at  his  Death 302 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

J.  S.  Buckminster.  —  His  Interest  in  Periodical  Literature. — 
And  in  Sacred  Literature.  —  Beginning  of  Unitarian  Contro- 
versy. —  Extracts  from  Sermons 320 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

Ordination  of  Mr.  Parker,  at  Portsmouth.  —  Dr.  Buckminster's 
Friendship  for  him.  —  J.  S.  Buckminster's  Housekeeping  with 
his  Sister  in  Boston.  —  Letters  from  Drs.  Sprague,  Pierce,  and 
Abbot.  —  Dr.  Worcester 359 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
Sermon    on    the    Death    of  Governor    Sullivan. —  Letter    on 


X  CONTENTS. 

Duelling.  —  Bible   Society.  —  Address  before  the  Society  of 

<li.  B.  K.  —  The  Athenaeum 386 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

Correspondence  between  Dr.  Buckminster  and  his  Daughter. — 
Remarks  upon  the  Correspondence 419 

CHAPTER  XX. 

Death  of  Rev.  Mr.  Emerson.  —  Appointment  of  J.  S.  Buckmin- 
ster as  Lecturer  iipon  the  Dexter  Foundation  in  Harvard 
College.  —  Study  of  German.  —  Intellectual  Character  and 
Habits.  —  Last  Illness 441 

CHAPTER  XXI. 

Domestic  Events  relating  to  Dr.  Buckminster.  —  Journey  to 
Connecticut.  —  Cheerfulness  and  Uninterrupted  Health  for 
four  Years.  —  His  last  Illness,  and  Death.  —  Interment. — 
Monument.  —  Funeral  Services  at  Portsmouth  and  Boston. — 
Reinterment  and  Monument  of  J.  S.  Buckminster.        .     .     .    465 


Appendix 485 


MEMOIRS. 


MEMO  in  S. 


CHAPTER   I. 

ANCESTKY     OF    DR.     JOSEPH     BUCKMINSTER     IN     ENGLAND 
AND    IN    AMERICA. 

The  biographies  of  the  father  and  son,  embraced 
in  the  following  pages,  may  properly  be  introduced 
by  some  brief  account  of  the  ancestry  from  which 
they  sprnng. 

The  name,  Buckminster,  as  it  is  written  by  the  last 
generations  of  the  family,  is  supposed,  by  the  historian 
of  the  town  of  Framingham,  Massachusetts,  to  be  an 
alteration  from  Buckmaster,  which  he  conjectures  was 
the  original  name,  as  it  appears  so  written  in  the  Col- 
ony records  of  Massachusetts,  and  upon  deeds  of  the 
seventeenth  century.  This  is  a  mistake.  The  name  of 
'  Adam  Buckminister,'  and  '  Roberti  filii  sui,'  appears 
as  far  back  as  A.  D.  1216  in  the  English  records  in 
Westminster,  printed  by  order  of  King  William  the 
Fourth,  and  the  name  is  repeated  with  the  same 
spelling  through  all  the  generations  of  the  family,  till 
it  became  altered  in  this  country  by  the  careless 
spelling  of  the  records.  This  will  not  appear  sur- 
prising to  persons  acquainted  with  the  records,  where 
are  found  names  long  honored  and  revered  by  their 
1 


»  ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BUCKMJ.NSTER 

descendants,  altered,  and  even  travestied  in  the  most 
unacconntable  manner. 

The  first  emigrant  of  the  name  of  Buckminster  to 
this  cbimtry  is  said  to  have  come  from  Wales, — I 
know  not  from  what  anthority  or  tradition,  but  it 
seems  milikely ;  for  I  find  that  in  1578,  the  twenty- 
first  year  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  a  coat  of  arms 
was  granted  to  William  Buckminster,  son  and  heir  of 
Richard  Buckminster,  eldest  son  of  John  Buckminster 
of  Petei'borough^  and  to  all  the  posterity  of  John 
Buckminster  for  ever. 

The  eldest  ancestor  of  whom  we  have  any  knowl- 
edge is  Thomas  Buckminster,  the  author  of  an 
Almanac  for  the  year  1599,  printed  in  liOndon.  A 
copy  of  this  Almanac  has  been  preserved  in  the 
family  to  the  present  time.  Watts,  in  his  Bibliotheca 
Britannica,  mentions  'Thomas  Buckminster,  Minister, 
His  Right  Christian  Calendar  and  Spiritual  Prognos- 
ticator  for  1583  and  1584.'  These  are  doubtless 
numbers  of  the  same  series  with  the  Almanac  just 
spoken  of,  and  now  before  me.  It  contains  a  calendar, 
printed  in  red  and  black  ink,  of  the  days  of  the  month, 
the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  the  changes  of  the  moon,  etc. 
It  is  a  pleasant,  although  perhaps  a  fancit\d  thought, 
that  Shakspeare  himself  may  have  resorted  to  one  of 
Thomas  Buckminster's  Almanacs  to  see  if  the  full 
moon  would  serve  for  the  Midsummer  Night's  Dream, 
written  and  performed  between  1590  and  1600. 

I  here  copy  as  specimens  two  stanzas,  which  may 
be  regarded  as  of  a  fair  average  with  the  wisdom  and 
poetry  both,  contained  in  the  copy  preserved  in  the 
family.  The  calendar  of  each  month  is  preceded  by 
a  stanza. 


IN    ENGLAND    AND    IN    AMERICA.  3 

The  stanza  for  January  is  as  follows  :  — 

'  It'  thou  be  sick  and  health  would  have, 
The  council  of  the  learned  crave  ; 
Il'thou  have  health,  to  keep  thee  so 
Flee  idleness,  as  deadly  foe.' 

In  June  he  says  :  — 

'  Drink,  new  or  sweet,  taste  not  at  all, 
For  thereby  grows  no  danger  small ; 
And  to  thyself  such  pastime  take 
As  may,  in  God,  thee  merry  make.' 

Thomas,  the  son  or  grandson  of  the  almanac-maker, 
came  to  Boston  in  1640.  He  was  made  a  'freeman,' 
that  is,  in  the  old  meaning  of  the  term,  he  joined  the 
commnnion  of  a  church,  and  received  a  grant  of  land 
valued  at  £10,  from  the  General  Court.  He  was  the 
owner  of  a  farm  at  Muddy  River,  now  Brookline, 
where  he  died,  September  20,  1656.  His  will,  dated 
only  a  few  days  before  his  death,  is  recorded  in  the 
Suffolk  probate-office.  The  will,  also,  of  his  eldest 
son,  Lawrence,  who  returned  to  England,  unmarried, 
is  recorded  in  the  same  office. 

If  we  may  infer  any  thing  from  the  selection  of 
Thomas  Buckminster's  farm  in  Brookline,  he  must 
have  had  an  eye  for  picturesque  beauty.  His  dwelling 
stood  at  the  foot  of  wooded  heights,  covered  with  a 
dense  shrubbery  and  fringed  all  up  the  rocky  sides 
with  delicate  pensile  branches  and  hanging  vines.  A 
rapid,  sparkling  brook,  descending  from  these  rocky 
heights,  ran  past  his  door,  spreading  out  and  winding 
in  the  meadows  in  front.  Jamaica  Lake,  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  distant,  embosomed  in  beautiful  undulations  of 
hill  and  valley,  slept  tranquilly  in  full  sight  of  the 


4  ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BUCKMINSTER 

house.     Oiir  forefathers,  probably,  if  they  had  any 
love,  had  little  time  to  cultivate  a  taste  for  beautiful 
scenery.     With  the  axe  on  their  shoulders,  or  their 
hands  upon  the   plough,  they  conquered  the   rough 
and  sterile  soil,  securing  those  absolute  necessaries  of 
life,  food  and  fuel,  before  they  could  please  the  eye, 
or  indulge  the  love  of  natural  beauty.     Burns,  upon 
the    peaceful    hills    of  Scotland,   may    have    walked 
behind  his  plough  in  glory  and  in  joy  ;  but  upon  the 
New  England  hills,  at  that  early  time,  the  ploughman 
must  have  cast  many  an  anxious  look  around,  lest  in 
the  dense  forest,  closely  pressing  upon  the  field,  should 
lurk  the  beast  of  prey,  or  the  more  dangerous  Indian. 
Thomas  Buckminster's  son  Joseph,  the  first  of  the 
family  with  that  Christian  name  in  this  country,  seems 
to  have  succeeded  his  father,  and  to  have  lived  upon 
the  farm  in  Brookline.     His  son  Joseph,  grandson  of 
Thomas,  was  a  man  whose  foot  was  capable  of  making 
a  mark  upon  the  hard  New  England  soil.     His  name 
is  first  mentioned  in  1693,  when  he  became  a  pioneer 
in  settling  the  town  of  Framingham,  and  acted  an 
important  part  in  the  establishment  and  administration 
of  the  affairs  of  the  place.     He  was  then  about  twenty- 
seven  years  old,  with  great  physical  powers,  and  great 
resolution  and  ardor  of  character.     He  married  at  an 
early  age  Martha  Sharp,  the  daughter  of  John  Sharp, 
of  Muddy  River.     After  his  removal  to  Framingham, 
he  held  successively  all  the  offices  of  honor  and  trust 
in  the  gift  of  his  fellow-townsmen.     He  was  a  select- 
man for  seventeen  years,  and  a  representative  to  the 
General  Court  of  Massachusetts   Colony  for  twelve 
years.     He  held  several  military  commissions ;  was 
the  commander  of  a  company  of  grenadiers  in  Sir 


IX    ENGLAND    AND    IN    AJIERICA. 


Charles  Hobble's  regiment  in  the  expedition  to  Port 
Royal,  and  subsequently  had  the  command  of  a 
regiment  of  Colonial  militia,  which  gave  him  the 
title  of  Colonel.  He  settled  and  improved  the  famous 
Brinley  farm  of  860  acres,  of  which  400  acres  were 
under  cultivation.  He  sold  it  a  few  years  before  his 
death  to  Francis  Brinley,  Esq.,  for  £8,600  in  bills  of 
public  credit,  and  seems  to  have  been  involved  in 
endless  lawsnits.  His  name  is  perpetually  found 
in  the  various  transactions  of  the  town ;  at  one  time, 
in  a  deed  of  gift  of  half  an  acre  of  ground  adjoining 
the  meeting-house  to  accommodate  the  work-house 
and  school-house  ;  at  another  time,  he  is  allowed  to 
make,  and  to  keep  in  order,  a  highway  from  his  house 
to  the  meeting-house,  and  in  consideration  thereof  is 
exempted  from  labor  on  the  other  highways  for  seven 
years. 

At  the  building  of  the  first  meeting-house  in  Fram- 
ingham,  a  vote  was  passed,  that  Joseph  Buckminster 
should  have  liberty  to  set  up  a  pew,  upon  which  side 
of  the  great  doors  he  pleased.  As.  at  the  same  meet- 
ing, a  committee  was  chosen  to  seat  the  meeting- 
house,—  that  is,  as  in  early  times  was  the  custom,  to 
assign  seats  according  to  age,  dignity,  or  the  rate 
paid,  —  we  must  infer  that  the  pew  was  an  honorable 
distinction,  or  a  reward  for  services. 

At  the  building  of  the  second  meeting-house,  some 
circumstances  on  record  betray  the  character  of  the 
man,  and  may  have  been  the  origin  of  an  expression 
the  writer  used  to  hear  in  childhood,  of  the  '  Buck- 
minster spunk.'  The  phrase,  and  the  quality  perhaps, 
have  since  died  out  of  the  family.  It  appears  that  he 
obstinately  opposed  for  five  years  the  placing  of  the 


O  ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BXJCKMINSTER 

meeting-house  upon  a  piece  of  land  to  which  he 
asserted,  or  had  a  just  claim,  for  he  dug  a  cellar  and 
drew  timber  upon  it  for  his  own  use ;  and  when 
timber  for  the  meeting-house  was  drawn  upon  the 
same  land,  he  did  not  hesitate  to  remove  it.  After  a 
contest  of  five  years,  he  seems  to  have  acted  gener- 
ously, or  it  may  be  only  justly;  the  records  merely 
say,  that  Colonel  Buckminster  7nade  a  proposal  to 
the  town  to  make  good  all  the  timber  that  he  had 
drawn  off.  He  would  not  be  compelled,  but  volun- 
teered this  act. 

Tradition  represents  him  as  a  large,  athletic,  and 
remarkably  strong  man,  capable  of  lifting  great 
weights  and  of  carrying  heavy  burdens.  It  is  said, 
but  it  seems  impossible,  that  once,  upon  a  bet,  he 
carried  sixteen  bushels  of  salt  upon  his  shoulders. 
He  is  said  to  have  been  a  stern  and  austere  man,  and 
to  have  ruled  among  the  first  settlers  of  Framingham 
with  no  gentle  hand ;  but  there  is  no  tradition  that 
he  was  ever  accused  of  injustice,  or  of  reaping  where 
he  had  not  sown.  He  was  the  owner  of  several 
slaves ;  a  negro  woman,  named  Nanny,  was  valued 
at  his  death  at  £80. 

His  son  Joseph,  or,  as  he  was  called,  the  second 
Colonel,  was  a  very  different  man,  much  beloved  and 
respected,  and  filling  various  offices  of  trust  and  honor 
in  the  gift  of  his  fellow-citizens.  For  twenty-eight 
years  he  was  selectman,  and  held  the  office  of  town- 
clerk  more  than  thirty  years.  He  had  the  honor  of 
representing  the  town  of  Framingham  at  the  General 
Court  for  thirty  years,  and  died  at  the  age  of  eighty- 
four,  after  a  long  life  of  public  service  and  personal 
worth. 


IN    ENGLAND   AND   IN    AMERICA.  7 

There  is  a  circumstance  connected  with  his  history 
that  will  be  interesting  to  the  friends  of  African 
emancipation.  He  was  the  owner  of  several  slaves, 
in  one  of  whom  he  placed  implicit  confidence,  relying 
upon  him  in  all  delicate  and  confidential  business, 
and  placing  in  his  fidelity,  as  he  said,  more  unwaver- 
ing faith  than  in  that  of  any  white  man.  This  negro, 
Prince  Young,  was  distinguished  for  his  talents  and 
his  moral  qualities,  his  honesty,  temperance,  and  pru- 
dence, and  was  left  with  the  sole  care  of  a  great 
estate,  and  the  management  of  a  large  farm,  while 
his  master  was  absent  at  the  General  Court. 

William  Buckminster,  the  son  of  the  above,  and 
the  third  who  held  the  title  of  Colonel,  was  a  dis- 
tinguished man  in  his  day.  At  the  age  of  twenty-one 
he  removed  to  Barre,  and  devoted  himself  to  the 
business  of  agriculture.  He  immediately  gained  the 
confidence  and  respect  of  the  people.  His  integrity 
made  him  friends,  and  his  superior  understanding 
gave  importance  and  consideration  to  his  political 
sentiments.  In  the  great  struggle  between  this  and 
the  mother  country,  he  took  a  very  warm  and  active 
part.  Decisive  in  his  measures,  open  and  undisguised 
in  his  friendships,  he  enjoyed  to  an  unusual  degree 
the  confidence  of  his  fellow-citizens.  He  signalized 
himself  by  his  activity  in  providing  arms  and  ammu- 
nition. The  minute-men  raised  in  Barre  were  com- 
manded by  him,  and  immediately  after  the  first  blood 
was  shed  at  Lexington,  he  marched  his  company  to 
Cambridge.  He  was  distinguished  for  prudence  and 
bravery  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill ;  he  was  on  the 
field  the  whole  day,  and  as  the  Americans  were  re- 
treating he  received  a  ball  in  the  right  shoulder,  that 


8  ANCESTRY    OF    DR.    JOSEPH    BUCKMINSTER 

came  out  at  the  back.  Although  thus  dangerously- 
wounded,  he  continued  in  the  army  till  the  close  of 
the  war,  because  of  the  influence  he  obtained  over 
the  minds  of  the  people.  It  was  said  of  him,  that 
those  who  knew  him  best  praised  him  most,  for  his 
inflexible  integrity  and  spotless  character. 

With  him  the  military  spirit  ceased,  at  least  in  this 
branch  of  the  family.  His  eldest  brother,  son  of  the 
second  Colonel  Buckminster,  was  born  JVIarch,  1720. 
He  was  the  fourth  Joseph  in  direct  succession,  and 
the  first  that  entered  the  ministry.  He  was  educated 
at  Harvard  College,  and  received  its  honors  in  1739. 
He  was  ordained  at  Rutland,  Massachusetts,  1742, 
and  continued  '  the  faithful  and  laborious  pastor '  of 
that  church  more  than  fifty  years,  highly  respected 
for  his  usefulness,  and  deeply  beloved  and  esteemed 
by  his  parish.  Mr.  Buckminster  may  be  considered 
in  some  degree  a  heretic  of  his  day,  as  he  entered 
into  controversy  in  support  of  a  mitigated  form  of 
Calvinism.  He  did  not  believe  that  the  elect  were 
elected  to  grace  before  the  foundations  of  the  world, 
but  were  elected  from  a  fallen  state,  and  that  election 
was  a  remedy  for  an  existing  evil.  It  was  not  a  part 
of  God's  original  purpose,  but  such  were  elected  as 
most  diligently  used  the  means  of  grace.  The  de- 
crees have  no  direct  positive  influence  upon  men. 
They  are  determined  by  motives,  but  act  freely  and 
voluntarily.     Such  was  his  theology. 

These  controversies  were  printed,  but  it  must  de- 
mand a  great  love  of  ancestral  blood  and  an  enormous 
amount  of  patience  even  to  read  now  what  at  that 
and  at  remoter  times  was  the  very  milk  upon  which 
Christian  babes  were  fed.     Mr.  Buckminster  is  called. 


IN    ENGLAND    AND    IN    AMERICA.  » 

in  the  theological  tracts  of  the  time,  a  Suhlapsarian. 
It  is  a  comfort  to  think  that  the  thing  itself  is  not  so 
harsh  as  its  name,  for  it  seems  an  effort  to  soften  the 
stern  features  of  Calvinism,  and  to  mingle  a  little 
human  clay  in  the  iron  and  granite  of  its  image. 


CHAPTER   II. 

JOSEPH    BUCKBIINSTER. CHILDHOOD. EDUCATION    AND    RE- 
SIDENCE,     AS     TUTOR,      AT      YALE      COLLEGE.  FORM      OF 

RELIGIOUS    FAITH. 

We  come  now  to  the  first  immediate  subject  of 
tliese  memoirs.  Joseph,  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Joseph 
Buckminster,  minister  of  Rutland,  was  the  fourth 
among  nine  children.  The  eldest,  a  son,  lived  only 
a  few  months  ;  then  followed  two  daughters.  Joseph 
was  born  October  3d,  1751,  receivhig  the  ancestral 
name,  which  his  elder  brother  who  died  had  also 
borne  during  the  few  months  of  his  life.  His  mother 
was  Lucy  Williams,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  William 
Williams,  of  Weston,  a  direct  descendant,  in  the  fourth 
generation,  from  Robert  Williams,  of  Roxbury,  the 
common  ancestor  of  the  wide  family  of  that  name 
spread  through  the  United  States.  Her  grandfather. 
Rev.  William  Williams,  of  Hatfield,  was  called  a 
man  of  great  abilities.  Her  own  mother  was  a  daugh- 
ter of  Solomon  Stoddard,  "that  great  divine,  who  was 
considered  by  many  as  the  light  of  the  New  England 
churches,  as  John  Calvin  was  of  the  Reformation." 

Rev.  Dr.  Stiles  says,  in  reference  to  him,  '  I  have 
read  all  Mr.  Solomon  Stoddard's  writings,  but  have 
never  been  able  to  see  in  them  that  strength  of  genius 
some  have  attributed  to  him.  Mr.  Williams  of  Hat- 
field, his  son-in-law,  I  believe  to  have  been  the  greater 


JOSEPH    BUCKMINSTER.  11 

man.'  President  Edwards  calls  Mr.  Williams  a  man 
of  ^unnatural  abilities,'  and  goes  on  to  say,  —  'His 
subjects  were  always  weighty,  and  his  manner  of 
teaching  peculiarly  happy;  showing  the  strength  and 
accuracy  of  his  judgment,  and  ever  breathing  forth 
the  spirit  of  piety  and  the  deepest  sense  on  his  heart 
of  the  things  he  delivered.'  Jonathan  Edwards  was 
first-cousin  to  Mr.  Buckminster's  mother. 

Colonel  William  Williams,  one  of  the  first  settlers 
of  Pittsfield,  was  the  maternal  uncle  of  the  subject 
of  this  memoir.  He  preserved  the  venerable  elm-tree 
that  has  so  long  adorned  the  centre  of  that  town.  It 
stood  upon  land  of  which  he  was  the  owner,  and  one 
of  his  workmen  had  raised  the  axe  to  cut  it  down, 
when  he  ordered  him  to  'spare  that  ancient  tree.'  Its 
enormous  growth  must  have  been  the  slow  work  of 
many  centuries.  It  measures  twenty-three  feet  in 
circumference  only  a  short  distance  from  the  ground, 
and  rises  seventy-three  feet  before  it  puts  out  a  single 
limb. 

Of  the  mother  oi  Dr.  Buckminster  a  dim  and  indis- 
tinct image  remains  in  the  childish  memory  of  the 
writer.  After  the  death  of  her  husband,  she  came  to 
spend  the  last  years  of  her  life  near  her  son,  in  Ports- 
mouth. She  was  tall,  with  rather  masculine  features, 
and  in  the  mind  of  the  writer  she  has  left  the  impres- 
sion of  a  stern  and  rather  austere  nature.  It  is 
remembered  that  she  sat  constantly  in  her  easy-chair, 
usually  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  and  that  no  noise 
was  permitted  in  her  presence.  Her  son,  whatever 
were  his  avocations,  never  omitted  visiting  her  a 
single  day,  and  the  grandchildren  were  often  sent  to 
receive  her  blessing. 


12  CHILDHOOD. 

Descended  thus,  on  the  mother's  side,  from  a  family 
of  distinguished  intellect  and  piety,  the  eldest  son 
was  from  his  birth  intended  for  the  ministry.  The 
early  years  of  his  life  were,  however,  spent  in  those 
hardy  labors  of  the  farm,  in  open  country  air,  that 
are  so  essential  to  invigorate  the  frame  and  strengthen 
the  constitution.  The  healthful  breezes  of  the  hills  of 
Rutland  must  have  done  much  towards  expanding  his 
vigorous  frame,  which  was  remarkable  for  its  sym- 
metrical development,  for  the  ease  and  elasticity  of 
all  its  motions,  for  gracefulness  and  freedom  of  action, 
which  continued  to  distinguish  him  through  life.  He 
used  to  delight  to  tell  his  children  of  the  country 
sports  of  his  boyhood.  Once,  in  pursuit  of  squirrels, 
he  was  lost  in  the  forest,  and,  with  another  boy,  slept, 
like  the  babes  in  the  wood,  upon  heaped-up  fallen 
leaves.  The  alarmed  and  anxious  friends  were  all 
night  in  pursuit,  and  the  boys  were  near  perishing 
from  fatigue  and  hunger. 

Another  accident  that  happened  in  his  boyhood, 
which  his  children  often  heard  him  refer  to,  made  a 
deep  impression  upon  his  mind.  He  was  ten  years 
old,  and  after  the  labors  of  the  hay-field,  full  of 
boyish  spirits,  he  was  jumping  upon  the  top  of  the 
loaded  wain,  as  it  was  returning  to  the  hay-loft.  A 
false  step  threw  him  to  the  ground,  and  the  wheels 
of  the  heavily  laden  cart  passed  directly  over  his 
neck !  He  held  a  pitchfork  in  his  hand,  and  it  so 
happened  that  the  handle  of  the  pitchfork  fell  in 
exactly  the  position  to  support  the  wheel  as  it  turned 
over  him.  This  almost  miraculous  preservation  made 
a  deep  impression  upon  his  young  mind,  and  he  asked 
himself  with  deep  earnestness  for  what  he  had  been 


EDUCATION  AT  YALE  COLLEGE.  13 

saved,  —  thus  held  back  from  the  very  threshold  of 
death.  He  said  to  his  children,  that,  long  after,  he 
never  closed  his  eyes  to  sleep  without  a  vivid  remem- 
brance of  the  emotion  of  that  agitating  moment,  and 
that,  in  after  life,  it  was  never  forgotten. 

His  heart  was  very  tender  in  his  boyhood.  An 
anecdote  once  related  to  his  children  made  a  strong 
impression  upon  the  writer,  as  a  proof  of  that  tender- 
ness and  susceptibility  of  feeling  which  enabled  him 
through  life  to  enter  intimately  into  the  feelings  of 
the  afflicted,  and  to  be  so  truly  a  comforter  to  his 
people  in  his  ministry.  His  elder  sister  married  while 
he  was  yet  a  boy,  and  removed  with  her  husband  to 
the  then  remote  region  of  Ohio.  This  separation, 
the  first  breach  in  the  family  circle,  was  so  deeply  felt 
by  the  young  Joseph,  that  he  spent  the  whole  day 
after  her  departure  alone  in  the  hay-loft,  weeping 
bitter  tears,  unable  to  eat,  and  refusing  to  be  comforted. 

I  am  not  acquainted  with  the  place  or  the  manner 
in  which  Dr.  Buckminster's  preparatory  studies  were 
completed,  but  at  the  age  of  fifteen  he  entered  Yale 
College.  It  was  probably  through  the  .influence  of 
his  mother's  relatives,  the  Williamses  and  Stoddards, 
that  he  received  his  education  at  New  Haven,  rather 
than  at  Cambridge,  as  his  father  had  been  a  son  of 
Harvard.  He  was  not  repelled  from  Harvard  College 
because  it  was  of  a  more  liberal  theology ;  for  even 
had  it  been  so,  his  father,  as  we  have  seen,  was  not 
one  of  the  strictest  among  Calvin ists.  His  maternal 
uncle,  the  Rev.  Elisha  Williams,  had  been  Rector  of 
Yale  College  not  many  years  previous,  and  this  cir- 
cumstance may  have  decided  for  him. 

A  contemporary  testifies,  that,  while  an  undergrad- 
2 


14  EDUCATION  AT  YALE  COLLEGE. 

uate^  he  was  distinguished  for  the  sweetness  of  his 
disposition,  for  his  exemplary  moral  deportment,  and 
as  one  of  the  best  linguists  in  his  class.  He  was  a 
very  accomplished  Latin  scholar,  and  continued 
through  life  to  write  in  that  language  almost  as 
readily  as  in  English.  Many  of  his  familiar  letters 
to  his  son  are  written  in  Latin.  His  love  for  classical 
studies  was  hardly  impaired  amid  the  arduous  duties 
of  his  profession.  Although  devoted  by  inclination 
and  duty  to  the  studies  connected  with  his  sacred 
office,  and  engaged  heart  and  soul  by  preference  for 
the  Bible,  yet  Yirgil  and  Cicero  continued  to  lie  upon 
his  study  table.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  addressing 
familiar  questions  and  simple  household  orders  to  his 
daughters  in  Latin,  and  then  of  explaining  them  or 
giving  them  the  dictionary  to  find  them  out;  thus  a 
few  Latin  sentences  became  quite  familiar  to  them. 

In  1770,  Joseph  Buckminster  received  the  honors  of 
the  bachelor's  degree,  and  was  one  of  the  tJiree  most 
distinguished  and  accomplished  scholars  who  were 
chosen  upon  the  Berkeley  foundation  to  continue 
three  years  longer  at  the  College,  pursuing  such 
studies  as  they  might  select  for  themselves,  all 
expenses  being  paid  by  the  fund  provided  for  that 
purpose.  '  That  he  devoted  himself  to  theological 
studies,'  says  a  son  of  Yale,  'must  have  been  from  a 
high  spirituality  of  feeling,  as  the  religious  state  of 
the  College  was  very  low  at  that  period.'  There 
were  also  prizes  provided  by  the  Berkeleian  fund  for 
distinction  in  certain  studies.  '  The  Dictionary  of 
Arts  and  Sciences,'  in  four  quarto  volumes,  was  the 
prize  adjudged  to  him,  and  always  remained  upon  the 
shelves  of  his  library. 


EDtrCATION    AT    YALE    COLLEGE.  15 

The  advantages  of  these  three  years  of  added  study 
must  have  been  in  proportion  to  the  merit  by  which 
they  were  obtained ;  and  among  the  names  of  those 
who  succeeded  to  this  distinction,  we  find  some  of 
the  most  honored  of  our  country.  Silas  Deane,  the 
Hon.  Abraham  Hillhonse,  and  Stephen  Mitchell  pre- 
ceded him,  and  among  his  contemporaries  were  Presi- 
dent Dwight  and  the  Hon.  John  Davenport.  Both 
of  the  last  were  his  warm  personal  friends,  whose 
attachment  continued  through  life.  Both  visited  the 
humble  parsonage  of  their  fellow-student  within  the 
memory  of  the  writer ;  the  one  accompanied  by  his 
son,  the  other  by  his  wife.  To  her  inexperience  of 
life  the  one  appeared  to  possess  the  lofty  politeness, 
the  priestly  dignity,  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  as 
made  known  by  the  pen  of  Hannah  More  ;  the  other 
resembled  the  only  hero  of  romance  then  familiar  to 
her  imagination.  Sir  Charles  Grandison. 

The  epic  bards  of  our  country.  Barlow,  Trumbull, 
and  Dwight,  were  also  fellow-students  and  personal 
friends  of  Mr.  Buckminster.  Numerous  copies  of  the 
epics  of  these  poets,  the  Vision  of  Columbus  and  the 
Conquest  of  Canaan,  were  arranged  upon  the  study 
shelves  of  their  friend,  probably  subscription  copies, 
remaining  from  year  to  year  in  undisturbed  quiet.  If 
a  child,  prompted  by  curiosity,  opened  a  volume,  the 
unattractive  page  was  restored  again  to  its  repose, 
there  to  gather  the  dust  of  age  ;  but  there  is  no  old 
mortality  that  can  ever  consecrate  and  make  venerable 
poetry  that  has  in  itself  so  little  merit. 

The  three  years  of  literary  instruction  for  which 
Dr.  Buckminster  was  indebted  to  Bishop  Berkeley 
demand   a  tribute   of  gratitude  from   one   so   nearly 


16  EDUCATION  AT  YALE  COLLEGE. 

connected  with  him.  According  to  every  account 
that  has  come  down  to  us,  Bishop  Berkeley  was  one 
of  the  noblest  and  purest  of  the  benefactors  of  the 
human  race.  Pope's  ascription,  '  To  Berkeley  every 
virtue  under  heaven,'  however  comprehensive,  is  too 
general  to  give  a  true  idea  of  the  refined  spirituality 
of  his  mind,  the  benignity  and  disinterested  gene- 
rosity of  his  disposition. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  singular  coincidences  of 
literary  history  that  Bishop  Berkeley  should  have 
derived  a  large  part  of  his  fortune  from  Mrs.  Van- 
homrigh,  the  celebrated  Vanessa  so  long  attached  to 
Dean  Swift.  She  removed  to  Ireland  for  the  purpose 
of  enjoying  the  society  of  the  person  for  whom  she 
cherished  the  most  singular  attachment.  But  finding 
herself  totally  neglected,  and  suspecting  Swift's  con- 
nection with  Stella,  she  was  so  wounded  that  she 
altered  her  intention  of  making  him  her  heir,  and 
left  the  whole  of  her  property  to  two  gentlemen,  one 
of  whom  was  Bishop  Berkeley,  then  nearly  a  total 
stranger  to  her.  Thus  from  the  caprice  of  a  woman 
resulted  a  singular  good  fortune  to  many  of  the  other 
sex,  even  more  remotely  strangers  to  Vanessa  than 
was  the  original  legatee. 

Bishop  Berkeley  was  most  unostentatious  in  his 
benevolence,  doing  good  by  stealth,  and  blushing  to 
find  it  fame.  His  first  object,  that  to  which  he 
devoted  all  his  energies,  was  the  promotion  of  edu- 
cation in  the  New  World.  For  this  purpose,  he 
resigned  the  Deanery  of  Derry,  worth  £1100  a  year, 
to  dedicate  the  remainder  of  his  life,  with  only  a 
salary  of  a  hundred  pounds  yearly,  to  the  instruction 
of  the  youth  of  America.     Such  was  the  eloquence 


TUTOR    AT    NEW    HAVEN.  17 

of  this  enthusiast,  that  he  persuaded  three  of  the  fel- 
lows of  Trinity  College  to  embark  their  fortunes  with 
him,  and  to  give  up  all  their  prospects  of  preferment 
at  home  for  the  small  salary  of  £40  on  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic.  He  intended  to  establish  a  college  in 
what  were  called  the  Summer  Isles,*  Bermuda  being 
the  island  chosen  for  its  location. 

The  project  of  a  college  in  Bermuda  failed,  but 
Bishop  Berkeley,  as  is  well  known,  came  to  Newport 
in  Rhode  Island,  where  he  purchased  a  country  seat 
and  cultivated  a  farm,  waiting  for  the  fulfilment  of 
his  contracts  about  the  college.  These  failing,  he 
returned,  with  deep  disappointment  to  England,  and 
sent  from  thence  a  deed  of  his  valuable  farm  in  Rhode 
Island  to  Yale  College,  the  rents  of  Avhich  were  appro- 
priated to  the  support  and  instruction  of  the  three  best 
scholars  in  Greek  and  Latin,  selected  from  each  class 
as  it  graduated,  who  must,  as  a  condition  of  the 
bounty,  reside  at  the  College  at  least  nine  months 
of  the  three  successive  years. 

At  the  close  of  the  three  years  of  study,  Mr.  Buck- 
minster  was  appointed  tutor,  and  held  the  office  four 
years.  Dr.  Dwight  was  fellow-tutor  with  him  for 
nearly  the  whole  of  the  period.  The  same  contem- 
porary referred  to  above  says,  —  'He  was  much  es- 
teemed by  his  brothers  in  office,  and  was  univ^ersally 
beloved  and  respected  by  the  young  gentlemen  who 
had  the  happiness  to  be  under  his  instruction.'  The 
year  before  his  connection  with  the  College,  as  tutor, 
ceased,  in  consequence  of  the  agitated  state  of  the 
country  and  the  dangers  to  which  the  seaports  were 


*  So  called  in  the  Life  of  Berkeley. 
2* 


18  TUTOR   AT    NEW    HAVEN. 

subjected,  the  institution  was  disbanded,  and  the  stu- 
dents scattered  in  various  places,  each  class  under  the 
direction  of  its  respective  tutor. 

I  regret  that  so  few  anecdotes  of  this  interesting 
period  of  his  life  remain  in  my  memory.  He  was  not 
in  the  habit  of  talking  much  of  his  early  life,  and  I 
had  not  reached  that  period  when  we  begin  to  look 
back,  and  when,  the  present  not  sufficing  for  the 
wants  of  the  soul,  we  wish  to  learn  from  the  experi- 
ences and  the  trials  of  those  who  have  gone  before  us. 

Thus  eleven  years  of  a  life  not  very  long  in  its 
whole  duration  were  spent  in  New  Haven.  An  attach- 
ment to  Alma  Mater,  to  the  town  of  New  Haven,  and 
to  Connecticut  itself,  was  formed,  that  lasted  through 
life.  He  was  often  heard  to  say, —  'My  place  was 
there.  I  always  wished  that  State  to  be  my  home, 
but  Providence  has  directed  my  line  of  duty  far  away 
from  the  place  of  my  first  affections.'  The  limited 
salary  of  a  clergyman,  and  the  large  family,  more 
than  usually  thrown  upon  the  father's  care,  rarely 
allowed  him  the  recreation  of  a  journey.  Four  years 
before  his  death,  when  the  failing  health  of  one  of 
his  children  seemed  to  impose  it  as  a  duty,  a  journey 
to  New  Haven  was  a  bright  interval  between  the 
cares  of  life,  a  season  of  uninterrupted  cheerfulness. 
The  companion  of  that  journey  had  till  then  never 
known  of  what  cheerfulness,  even  gayety,  her  father's 
spirits  were  susceptible,  as  when  expanding  at  the 
meeting  of  old  friends,  renewing  youthful  reminis- 
cences with  classmates,  recalling  half-forgotten  college 
anecdotes,  and  reviving  all  those  care-free  associations 
that  make  of  college  days  an  oasis  left  in  the  far-off 
pathway  of  life. 


CONVERSION.  19 

Mr.  Buckminster's  whole  residence  at  New  Haven 
was  during  the  Presidency  of  Dr.  Daggett.  The 
country  was  agitated  by  the  intense  excitement  of 
the  war  of  the  revohition,  and  the  College  partook  of 
the  distress  that  marked  the  beginning  and  progress  of 
that  fearful  conflict ;  circumstance ss  ill  adapted  to  the 
quiet  of  literary  pursuits.  Yet  there  was  no  period  in 
the  history  of  the  College  more  fruitful  in  eminent 
men  in  every  department  of  knowledge,  and  the  classes 
of  1777  and  1778  were  much  larger  than  those  of  the 
previous  years,  and  contained  a  large  proportion  of 
men  distinguished  in  the  coiuicils  of  the  nation  and 
famous  in  the  annals  of  science. 

During  the  time  of  his  residence  at  New  Haven, 
he  passed  through  a  season  of  deep  mental  distress, 
under  conviction  of  his  great  sinfulness,  and  sank 
almost  entirely  into  a  state  of  despair.  In  a  person  of 
such  deep  and  tender  sensibility,  his  suftering  must 
have  been  much  exaggerated  by  his  tendency  to  ner- 
vous depression ;  and  it  must  always  be  difficult  to 
discriminate  how  much  of  this  distress  arises  from  the 
real  state  of  the  heart,  and  how  much  from  the  imag- 
ination and  a  morbid  self-condemnation.  The  mys- 
teries of  the  soul  must  be  left  to  be  judged  by  the 
great  Source  of  all  spiritual  illumination.  In  the 
words  of  a  contemporary,  '  As  he  obtained  a  glorious 
hope,  and  passed  from  death  to  life,  he  determined  to 
consecrate  his  time,  his  talents,  and  his  acquirements 
to  the  interest  and  cause  of  the  Redeemer.  He  read 
the  whole  of  Turretinus  in  the  original,  with  great 
satisfaction ' ;  and  it  was  then  that  he  drew  up  the 
confession  of  faith  and  form  of  self-dedication  that 
follows,  and  decided  to  devote  the  whole  strength  of 


20 


FORBI    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH. 


his  mind  to  preparing  himself  for  that  profession  which 
became  the  dearest  object  and  the  uhimate  cause  of 
the  most  intense  devotion  of  his  life. 

I  seem  almost  to  wrong  my  father  in  saying  that 
the  ministry  was  his  profession.  It  was  his  life. 
The  cause  of  his  Master  was  his  own  .cause.  He  con- 
sidered the  office  of  a  minister,  a  preacher  of  the  word 
of  life,  the  most  honorable  in  the  world ;  and  that  the 
learning,  the  talents,  the  acquirements  of  the  most 
gifted  minds  were  all  too  little  to  be  devoted  to  its 
interests.  To  spend  and  he  spent  in  the  cause  of 
religion  were  words  often  in  his  mouth,  and  the  most 
devoted  purpose  of  his  life.  His  religious  convictions 
and  his  religious  studies  resulted  in  the  following 
form  of  faith,  as  the  reader  will  perceive,  wholly  Cal- 
vinistic.  At  the  time  when  he  settled  at  Portsmouth, 
it  was  not  asked  if  a  minister  were  orthodox,  but 
only  if  he  were  sincere  and  devout.  There  is  some 
reason  to  believe,  that,  at  the  time  he  settled,  or  soon 
afterward,  his  views  were  somewhat  modified ;  but 
like  his  honored  predecessor  whom  he  immediately 
succeeded,  'his  heart  was  of  no  sect.' 

'  I  believe  that  there  is  a  God,  subsisting  in  three  persons, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  possessing  all  perfection  ; 
infinitely  holy,  just,  wise,  and  powerful ;  true,  gracious,  and 
compassionate  ;  in  whom  alone  every  thing  that  is  amiable 
and  lovely  centres,  and  from  whom  the  happiness  of  rea- 
sonable creatures  must  proceed.  That  this  God  made  all 
worlds,  and  rules  and  governs  them  by  his  power  and 
providence,  so  that  the  smallest  event  does  not  happen  but 
by  his  permission.  That  he  brought  man  into  being, 
formed  after  his  image,  and  capable  of  knowing  and  loving 
and   enjoying   God,  and  of  rendering   him  that  honor  and 


FORM    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH.  21 

glory  which  was  his  due.  That  God  entered  into  covenant 
with  this  first  man,  and,  in  him,  with  his  posterity :  the 
conditions  of  this  covenant  were,  that,  if  he  continued  in 
his  allegiance,  and  abstained  from  the  fruit  of  a  particular 
tree,  (v.hich  was  denied  him  as  a  test  of  his  obedience,)  he 
and  his  posterity  should  be  confirmed  in  life  ;  but  that  the 
day  he  ate  thereof  he  should  surely  die,. —  he,  and  his 
posterity  in  him. 

'  But  man  broke  this  covenant,  and  exposed  himself  and 
his  posterity  to  the  threatened  punishment,  lost  the  original 
rectitude  of  his  nature,  and  became  the  instrument  of 
communicating  a  corrupt  nature  to  his  descendants.  In 
this  state  God  might  have  left  him  to  suffer  the  wages  of 
his  folly.  But  God,  who  exalted  himself  to  show  mercy, 
having  from  all  eternity  chosen  some  of  this  fallen  race  to 
salvation,  through  sanctification  of  the  spirit  and  belief  of 
the  truth,  did  disclose  a  way  in  which  his  broken  law  might 
be  repaired,  his  justice  satisfied,  and  the  offenders  saved  ; 
(but,  as  a  God  was  offended,  so  a  God  must  suffer.)  The 
second  person  in  the  sacred  Three,  the  eternal  Son  of  God, 
voluntarily  offered  to  stand  in  man's  stead,  and  suffer  the 
punishment  which  he  had  merited.  He  is  accepted  by  the 
Father,  and,  upon  condition  that  he  satisfied  the  demands 
of  justice,  it  was  promised  that  he  should  bring  those  to 
the  enjoyment  of  God  who  were  from  all  eternity  chosen 
by  him. 

'  I  believe  that  this  Divine  person,  when  the  time  ap- 
pointed came,  descended  to  this  world,  took  human  nature, 
and  was  born  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  without  sin.  That  he 
perfectly  obeyed  the  law  of  God,  and,  suffering  the  penalty 
of  man's  sin,  was  crucified  by  the  Jews  ;  that  he  died,  was 
buried,  and  on  the  third  day  rose  again,  and  ascended  into 
heaven ;  received  the  approbation  of  his  Father,  and  is 
seated  at  his  right  hand. 

'  I  believe  that  this  same  Jesus  shall  come  again  to  judge 
the  world,  attended  with  his  holy  angels,  and  that  all  those 


22  FORM    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH. 

that  have  ever  lived,  together  with  tliose  who  shall  be  then 
found  alive,  shall  be  summoned  before  his  bar,  to  receive 
according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body.  And,  according 
as  they  are  found  to  have  accepted  the  mercy  offered  in 
the  Gospel,  and  have  thereby  become  interested  in  the 
righteousness  of  Christ,  or  to  have  despised  this  mercy  and 
obtained  no  interest  in  this  righteousness,  so  they  shall  be 
received  to  everlasting  happiness,  or  be  thrust  down  to 
everlasting  misery,  in  the  place  where  the  worm  dieth  not 
and  the  fire  is  not  quenched. 

'  I  believe  that  all  mankind  are  naturally  in  a  state  of 
death ;  that  they  have  an  aversion  to  God  and  his  law ;  that 
the  seeds  of  evil  lie  in  the  heart,  and  that  it  is  owing  to  the 
restraining  grace  of  God  that  they  do  not  break  forth  in 
gross  acts  of  impiety  ;  that  unless  man  is  recovered  from 
this  state,  and  his  temper  and  disposition  entirely  changed, 
he  never  can  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 

'  I  believe  that  man  is  absolutely  unable  to  produce  this 
change ;  that  it  is  the  work  of  the  Spirit  to  renew  and 
change  the  heart,  to  bring  sin  to  remembrance,  and  to 
discover  to  the  mind  its  deformity  and  lead  to  godly  sorrow, 
which  works  repentance  unto  life,  never  to  be  repented  of: 
yet  it  is  the  duty  of  all  persons  to  strive  to  obtain  this 
change,  and  wait  upon  God  in  all  his  institutions  ;  as  it  is 
in  this  way  that  grace  is  most  commonly  bestowed,  faith 
coming  by  hearing,  and  hearing  by  the  word  of  God. 

'  I  believe  that  it  is  by  faith  alone  that  we  becoriie  inter- 
ested in  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  and  entitled  to  the 
benefits  of  his  purchase  ;  that  this  faith  is  the  gift  of  God, 
and  not  given  on  account  of  any  merit  in  the  recipient,  but 
of  the  free  mercy  and  grace  of  God  ;  and  that  this  faith 
does  not  entitle  to  salvation  on  account  of  any  merit  that 
there  is  in  it :  the  righteousness  of  Christ  is  the  only  groimd 
of  justification,  and  the  meritorious  cause  of  our  acceptance 
with  God  ;  but  this  faith  is  the  means  of  our  becoming 
interested  in  this  righteousness,  and  a  qualification  that 
must  be  found  in  us  in  order  to  our  being  accepted. 


FORBI    OF    KELIGIOUS    FAITH.  23 

'  I  believe  that  those  ^vho  are  once  savingly  illumined, 
and  brought  home  to  God  by  his  blessed  Spirit,  and  have 
been  led  to  embrace  Christ  in  the  arms  of  faith,  and  love 
and  trust  his  merits  for  their  pardon,  justification,  and 
complete  salvation,  shall  never  fail  of  it ;  but  He  that 
hath  begun  a  good  work  in  them  shall  carry  it  on  till  the 
day  of  judgment,  nor  shall  any  thing  pluck  them  out  of  his 
hand. 

'  I  believe  that  God  is  willing  to  receive  into  covenant 
Avith  him  all  those  who  have  been  his  enemies,  and  who, 
like  the  prodigal  son,  have  spent  their  living  in  riot  and 
debauchery,  if  they  sincerely  repent,  hate  their  former 
conduct,  and  turn  unto  God  with  their  whole  heart.  Who- 
soever Cometh  unto  me,  saith  our  Saviour,  I  will  in  no  wise 
cast  out. 

'  Under  a  full  and  firm  persuasion  of  these  things,  I,  who 
acknowledge  myself  the  greatest  of  sinners,  having  offended 
my  Maker,  reproached  my  Redeemer,  and  grieved  his  Holy 
Spirit,  —  yet  knowing  that  God  delighteth  not  in  the  death 
of  a  sinner,  but  would  rather  that  he  should  turn  from  his 
wicked  way  and  live,  forsake  his  own  thoughts,  and  turn 
unto  the  Lord,  who  hath  promised  that  he  will  have  mercy, 
and  to  our  God,  who  will  abundantly  pardon,  —  desiring  to 
rely  upon  the  great  propitiatory  sacrifice  through  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  for  acceptance,  —  I  would  now  in  the  most 
solemn  manner,  in  the  presence  of  God  and  of  the  holy 
angels,  dedicate  and  devote  myself  to  God  with  all  that  he 
hath  been  pleased  to  bestow  upon  me,  or  shall  permit  me 
hereafter  to  enjoy,  knowing  that  other  lords  have  had 
dominion  over  me,  and  that  I  have  served  other  gods.  I 
desire  now  to  renounce  them  all  and  avow  the  Lord 
Jehovah,  the  Father^  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  to  be  my  God 
and  portion  ;  giving  myself  up  to  the  Father,  as  my 
Creator,  who  gave  me  every  thing  I  possess,  who  hath 
watched  over  me  all  my  life,  and  with  a  liberal  hand  hath 
dispensed  his  favors,  praying  that  he  would  consecrate  to 


24  FORM    OF    RELIGIOUS    FAITH. 

himself  all  the  ability  I  have  to  serve  him,  whether  natural 
or  acquired.  I  would  give  myself  up  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  as  to  my  glorious  and  exalted  Redeemer,  through 
whom  alone  there  is  hope  of  salvation,  and,  renouncing 
all  my  own  works  as  filthy  rags,  would  trust  solely  and 
entirely  to  his  righteousness  as  the  meritorious  cause  of  my 
justification  and  acceptance  with  God  ;  in  which  I  hope  to 
be  interested  by  its  being  freely  imputed  to  me,  which  God 
of  his  own  mercy  shall  be  pleased  to  bestow  upon  me.  I 
would  give  up  myself  to  the  Holy  Ghost,  as  my  sanctifier, 
enabling  me  to  hate,  loathe,  and  abhor  sin,  and  to  flee  from 
it,  shunning  the  least  appearance  of  evil.  I  would  give  up 
myself  to  the  sacred  Three  in  One,  and  One  in  Three,  as  to 
that  Being  who  has  the  sole  right  and  title  to  me.  I  would 
receive  the  word  of  God  as  the  rule  of  my  conduct,  and 
believe  whatever  God  hath  said,  though  it  be  above  my 
comprehension,  knowing  that  what  God  hath  said  is  true, 
though  finite  capacity  cannot  say  how.  I  would  trust  to 
God  for  spiritual  illumination,  that  I  may  be  able  to  under- 
stand spiritual  things,  and  to  receive  instruction  from  him 
with  respect  to  what  I  ought  to  believe  and  practise. 

'  Knowing  my  proneness  to  transgress  and  disobey  the 
commands  of  God,  the  temptations  that  attend  me,  both 
within  and  without,  from  my  own  wicked  heart  and  the 
subtle  adversary  of  souls,  I  would  exercise  all  watchfulness 
over  myself,  but  trust  solely  to  the  Captain  of  my  salvation 
to  secure  me  from  falling,  to  enable  me  to  conquer  all  my 
spiritual  enemies,  and  to  resolve,  by  his  grace  assisting  me, 
1  will  maintain  a  constant  fight  with  every  indwelling  cor- 
ruption, and  walk  in  all  the  commandments  and  ordinances 
of  the  Lord,  and  place  a  double  guard  against  those  sins  to 
which  I  am  most  inclined. 

'  And  now,  O  that  the  merciful  God,  who  is  a  God  of 
compassion,  and  who  delighteth  not  in  the  death  of  a  sinner, 
would  accept  of  me  as  his  unworthy  servant,  and  make  me 
one  of  his  family  ;   grant  me  the  spirit  of   adoption,  and 


KERVOUS    DEPRESSION.  25 

ratify  in  heaven  what  I  have  attempted  to  do  on  eax-th  ; 
make  me  sincere  and  steadfast  in  this  covenant,  that  this 
transaction  may  be  remembered  with  joy  and  not  witii 
regret,  when  1  shall  stand  before  his  righteous  tribunal ! 
Then  may  it  not  be  an  aggravating  circumstance  in  my 
condenmation  that  I  have  dealt  deceitfully  with  God,  or 
forgotten  this  covenant  of  my  youth. 

'  Joseph  Buckminster.' 

It  was  at  this  period  of  my  father's  life  that  he 
sufiered  the  first  attack  of  mental  despondency,  a 
form  of  nervous  disease  which  followed  him  at  inter- 
vals, with  greater  or  less  severity,  through  the  whole 
of  his  life.  This  moral  depression,  or  spiritual  dark- 
ness, often  wholly  unattended  by  mental  delusion, 
which  has  been  thought  to  be  occasioned  by  gloomy 
views  of  religion,  is  now  universally  admitted  by  men 
of  medical  science  to  be  induced  by  some  impenetrable 
derangement  of  the  delicate  structure  of  the  nerves. 
Religion,  which  should  ever  be  the  foitntain  of  joy 
and  happiness,  is  relieved  from  the  unjust  suspicion 
of  being  the  parent  of  gloom  and  melancholy. 

Such  disease  is  now  better  understood  than  it  Avas 
fifty  years  ago,  but  it  still  defies  the  scrutiny  of  the 
most  sagacious  science,  and  the  alleviation  of  the 
most  tender  humanity.  The  mirid  and  the  body 
partake  equally  of  the  depression ;  the  former  loses 
its  energy,  and  the  latter  becomes  emaciated  and 
weak.  But,  while  the  delusion  of  imaginary  infirmity 
is  so  strong,  the  patient  is  often  relieved  by  the  reality. 
A  serious  attack  of  illness,  or  a  certain  degree  of 
criminality,  could  it  be  attached  to  the  conscience, 
would  alleviate  the  imaginary  ills  of  the  victim  ;  but 
alas !  this  insidious  enemy  preys  upon  consciences  of 
3 


26  NERVOUS    DEPRESSION. 

the  purity  of  childhood,  and  heahh  often  robust  and 
vigorous.  The  imagination  usually  fixes  upon  per- 
sonal unworthiness,  and  exaggerates  venial  offences 
into  the  darkest  crimes,  charging  the  innocent  con- 
science with  every  species  of  offence,  with  every 
imaginable  sin,  till  it  is  persuaded  of  its  irreparable 
condition.  To  them,  the  door  of  pardon  is  for  ever 
closed ;  hope  never  comes  to  them,  that  comes  to  all 
beside.  At  the  same  time,  the  victim's  demands  upon 
himself  are  of  the  most  inexorable  severity,  while  the 
will  is  prostrate  and  powerless  to  perform,  and,  the 
imagination  cruelly  excited  at  the  disparity  between 
the  demand  and  the  performance,  the  reason  sinks 
before  it,  and  the  victim  is  overwhelmed  with  despair. 
At  this  stage  of  the  disease,  he  can  see  no  relief  but 
in  death,  upon  which  the  most  timid  spirit  often  rushes 
with  frantic  eagerness.  The  young,  whose  prospects 
are  cloudless,  and  upon  whose  life  has  fallen  no  shade 
of  sorrow,  are  often  the  prey  of  this  nameless  misery. 
Let  them,  if  possible,  not  despair.  Time,  the  healer 
of  the  heaviest  real  sorrows,  is  no  less  merciful  in  his 
ministrations  to  the  wounded  spirit ;  and  the  time  will 
assuredly  come,  when  they  will  look  back  upon  this 
affliction  as  upon  the  morning  clouds  that  have  rolled 
away  and  left  the  dew  of  their  youth  bright  upon 
them. 

Cowper,  from  his  exquisite  gifts  and  the  singular 
purity  of  his  life,  has  been  the  most  prominent  example 
of  this  unhappy  malady  ;  and  experience  has  shown, 
that  the  most  delicate  organizations,  consciences  of 
the  most  tender  susceptibility,  whose  purity  has  never 
been  stained  by  an  unjust  deed  or  a  guilty  thought, 
are  the  most  liable  to  this  fear  of  personal  unworthi- 


NERVOUS    DEPRESSION.  27 

ness,  that  will  shut  them  for  ever  from  the  presence 
of  God. 

In  Cowper,  as  in  many  others,  the  innocent  and 
tender  spirit  was  entangled  in  the  sombre  and  gloomy 
tenets  that  have  been  engrafted  upon  the  mild  and 
love-speaking  doctrines  of  Jesus,  and  from  this  reason, 
perhaps,  religion,  or  a  certain  form  of  religious  faith, 
has  been  assigned  as  the  unhappy  cause  of  this  form 
of  nervous  disease  ;  but  every  form  of  faith  may  be 
equally  charged,  and  equally  exonerated  from  the 
charge.  The  Catholic,  —  who  invests  his  confessor 
or  his  saint  with  the  responsibility  of  his  conscience, 
— -the  Unitarian,  and  the  Universalist  have  no  immu- 
nity from  the  delusions  of  the  imagination,  or  the 
dominion  of  this  giant  of  despair.  Appeals  to  the 
reason  and  to  the  conscience,  the  soothing  voice 
of  friendship  and  love,  the  administration  of  the 
tenderest  consolations,  do  but  strengthen  the  bands 
of  their  wretchedness.  Let  not  these  delusions  of 
the  afflicted  spirit  be  charged  upon  any  form  of 
that  blessed  religion,  whose  spirit  in  all  its  applica- 
tions is  the  consoler  and  strengthener  of  the  heart  of 
man. 


CHAPTER    III. 

MR.  BUCKMIXSTER''s  SETTLEMENT  IN  PORTSMOUTH,  NEW  HAMP- 
SHIRE.  REMINISCENCES  OF  THE   PISCATAQUA  ASSOCIATION 

OF     MINISTERS. THEIR     MEETINGS. MISSIONARY    MAGA- 
ZINE. —  PRAYER-BOOK  FOR  THE  USE  OF  FAMILIES. 

Having  received  a  unanimous  invitation  from  the 
parisii,  Mr.  Buckminster  was  ordained  over  the  North 
Church  in  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  January  27, 
1779.  He  succeeded  two  distinguished  pastors,  Drs. 
Langdon  and  Stiles,  who  had  been  successively  re- 
moved to  become  presidents,  the  one  of  Harvard,  the 
other  of  Yale  College.  They  were  both  remarkable 
men,  and  Dr.  Stiles,  the  immediate  predecessor  of  Mr. 
Buckminster,  was  one  of  the  most  learned  scholars  in 
the  country.  In  the  words  of  Dr.  Channing,  '  This 
country  has  not,  perhaps,  produced  a  more  learned 
man,  and  his  virtues  were  proportioned  to  his  intel- 
lectual acquisitions.  In  his  faith  he  was  a  moderate 
Calvinist ;  but  his  heart  was  of  no  sect.  He  carried 
into  his  religion  the  spirit  of  liberty  that  then  stirred 
the  whole  country.'  In  some  respects,  it  must  have 
been  a  great  advantage  to  have  had  such  predecessors, 
but  it  must  also  hav^e  taxed  all  the  energies  of  mind 
and  heart  of  the  young  pastor  to  fill  the  place,  to 
sustain  the  rank,  and  to  meet  the  expectations  of 
a  parish  accustomed  to  the  ministrations  of  these 
honored  men.     Dr.    Stiles  was,  besides,   fifty  years 


SETTLEMENT  IN  PORTSMOUTH.  29 

old  when  installed  at  Portsmouth,  and  had  been  a 
settled  pastor  at  Newport  twenty-two  years.  Mr. 
Backminster  was  twenty-eight,  and  the  previous 
eleven  years  had  been  spent  in  the  seclusion  of  a 
college  life. 

Portsmouth  had  always  been  distinguished  by  its 
liberality  of  spirit,  and  its  generosity  to  its  ministers. 
Before  Dr.  Stiles  arrived  among  them,  the  parish  had 
thoroughly  furnished  a  good  house  for  his  reception. 
He  remained  scarcely  a  year,  and  the  young  pastor, 
being  single,  needed  no  such  expensive  preparation  ; 
but  he  was  received  with  a  warmth  that  soon  rose  to 
enthusiasm.  He  was  endowed  with  natural  gifts  that 
eminently  fitted  him  for  the  pulpit.  His  voice  was 
strong  and  musical,  and  possessed  the  peculiarity  that 
its  lowest  tones  were  singularly  clear,  and  could  be 
distinctly  heard  in  the  remotest  corner  of  the  vast 
meeting-house,  with  its  two  galleries.  He  took  a 
prominent  part  in  the  singing.  His  voice  could 
always  be  distinguished  in  the  full  choir  by  its 
purity  and  bell-like,  silver  sound  ;  and  he  delighted, 
in  the  absence  of  the  ladies  of  the  choir,  to  take  the 
contralto  part.  His  appearance  in  the  pulpit  was 
most  dignified  and  graceful  ;  and  when  we  add  to 
the  fervor  and  glow  of  his  devotions,  that  his  whole 
manner  was  penetrated  by  a  peculiar  pathos,  a  deep 
feeling,  that  illumined  his  countenance  and  trembled 
in  the  earnestness  of  his  voice,  it  is  not  surprising  that 
no  one  who  ever  saw  him  in  the  pulpit  could  forget 
the  impression  he  made.  There,  too,  was  his  chief 
joy,  his  most  exhilarating  duty.  '  He  preferred  the 
dust  of  Zion  to  the  gardens  of  Persia,  and  the  broken 
walls  of  Jerusalem  to  the  palaces  of  Shushan.' 
3* 


30  PISCATAQUA    ASSOCIATION 

There  were  many  circumstances  connected  with 
his  settlement  in  Portsmouth  that  were  important  to 
his  usefuhiess,  and  agreeable  in  their  influence ;  others, 
that  determined  the  color  of  his  life  and  wove  the 
whole  web  of  his  joys  and  sorrows.  Among  the 
former  was  the  character  of  the  surrounding  ministers, 
with  whom  many  of  his  social  hours  were  spent,  and 
who,  in  the  language  of  sympathy,  '  strengthened  his 
hands  and  encouraged  his  heart.'  In  this  connection, 
we  must  speak  of  the  Piscataqua  Association  of  Min- 
isters, of  whom  it  has  lately  been  said,  that  '  they 
were  almost  all  of  them  picked  men ;  such  as  now 
would  only  be  found  in  metropolitan  parishes.  They 
were  sufficient,  each  of  himself,  to  give  a  name  and  a 
character  to  the  town  which  enjoyed  his  services,  and 
to  attract  to  his  parsonage  the  most  distinguished  men 
in  every  walk  of  life.'  The  same  eloquent  writer 
adds,  that  '  they  solved  in  practice  the  problem  of 
which  the  key  is  now  lost,  that  of  harmony  of  spirit 
and  cordial  cooperation  amongst  ministers  of  widely 
different  creeds.'  *  They  were,  indeed,  what  they 
called  each  other,  a  band  of  '  brothers.'  The  above 
remarks  were  no  doubt  made  with  some  reference  to 
the  state  of  the  country,  the  estimation  in  which 
ministers  were  held,  and  the  influence  they  exerted 
in  the  last  century.  There  is,  no  doubt,  a  much 
higher  degree  of  intellectual  culture  among  ministers 
at  the  present  day,  but  the  range  of  country  in  which 
the  '  Piscataqua  Association '  was  found  had  a  much 
greater  relative  importance  at  that  time  ;  and  in  some 
instances  the  ministers  were  deemed  fit  for  more  bril- 

*  Rev.  A.  P.  Peabody,  of  Portsmouth,  in  the  Christian  Examiner 
for  May,  1848,  Vol.  IX.  No.  III.,  Fourth  Series. 


OF    MINISTERS.  &1 

liant  stations.  The  singular  fact,  that  four  of  the 
'  Piscataqua  Association '  were  chosen  to  be  presidents 
of  colleges,  proves  that  they  were  appreciated ;  — 
Dr.  Langdon  and  Dr.  Stiles,  Dr.  Appleton,  and 
Dr.  Stevens,  of  Kittery  Point.  The  latter  was 
chosen  by  the  Fellows  of  Harvard  College  in  1769, 
but  being  suspected  of  a  leaning  to  the  mother 
country  in  the  approaching  contest,  the  appointment 
was  not  confirmed  by  the  Overseers. 

The  monthly  meetings  of  the  Association  were 
seasons  of  really  cordial  fellowship,  and  of  social  and 
animated  intercourse,  and  were  made  the  medium  of 
religious  instruction  to  their  respective  parishes. 
Their  usual  course  was  to  meet  successively  at  each 
brother's  house  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  forenoon  ;  those 
who  lived  at  the  distance  of  ten  or  fifteen  miles,  in 
those  days  of  slow  travelling  and  country  roads, 
were  obliged  to  come  the  previous  evening.  There 
was  a  religious  service  in  the  meeting-house,  begin- 
ning at  eleven,  at  which  the  exercises  were  assigned 
in  rotation,  or  were  appointed  by  the  brother  at  whose 
house  they  met.  The  dinner,  afterwards,  was  a  truly 
social  repast,  where  wit,  and  freedom,  and  a  moderate 
degree  of  gayety  prevailed.  Clergymen,  when  their 
labors  are  over,  enjoy  more  entirely  than  any  other 
class  of  men  the  agreeable  relaxation  that  follows,  — 
agreeable  in  kind,  in  its  allowances,  and  in  its  re- 
straints. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  demands  of  twelve 
or  eighteen  ministers  and  their  horses  upon  their 
brother's  oats,  and  upon  the  exertions  of  the  family 
to  prepare  a  suitable  dinner,  were  either  light  or 
trifiins:.     In  the  writer's  recollection,  the  festival  of 


32  PISCATAQUA    ASSOCIATION 

ministers^  meeting  holds  the  same  honorable  place  as 
to  sumptuousness  and  variety  of  viands  with  the 
more  rare  ordination  or  the  aimual  thanksgiving ;  and 
I  believe  the  wives  of  the  ministers  used  devoutly  to 
pray  that  their  medhig  might  not  he  in  the  winter. 

Of  the  older  members  of  the  Association,  Drs.  Ste- 
vens, Haven,  and  M'Clintock,  only  a  faint  and  indis- 
tinct image  remains  in  the  memory  of  the  writer. 
Of  the  others,  it  is  not  invidious  to  say  that  Dr. 
Appleton,  afterwards  President  of  Bowdoin  College, 
and  Mr.  Buckminster  were  the  animating  soul. 
Nearly  all  the  others  were  obliged,  like  Paul,  from 
the  inadequacy  of  their  support  tVom  their  parishes, 
to  labor  with  their  hands  at  some  other  calling.  The 
manse  of  each  was  the  home  of  all,  and  in  those  days, 
when  the  door  was  fastened  only  with  a  simple  latch, 
the  situation  of  the  prophet^s  chamber  was  so  familiar 
to  the  feet  of  the  brethren,  that,  if  one  arrived  after 
the  family  had  retired  for  the  night,  he  found  his  way 
to  it,  and  the  first  indication  the  family  had  of  a  guest 
was  his  appearance  at  breakfast  the  next  morning. 

In  nearly  all  of  them  there  was  a  marked  individ- 
uality of  character  that  would  have  furnished  rich 
materials  for  the  pen  of  Scott.  The  Rev.  Joseph 
Litchfield  was  settled  over  a  little  village  of  fisher- 
men, and  his  appearance,  at  least,  was  that  of  a  pilot 
who  had  weathered  a  hundred  storms.  He  was  wel- 
come to  every  fireside  for  the  quaint  and  graphic 
simplicity  of  his  language,  and  eminently  liked  in 
the  pulpit  by  the  younger  members  of  the  family  for 
the  extreme  brevity  of  his  sermons ;  which  sermons 
were  always  begun  and  finished  by  lamp-light  on 
Saturday  evening.     The  praise  of  brevity  could  not 


OF    MINISTERS.  33 

be  given  to  the  sermons  of  the  Rev.  Huntington 
Porter,  from  Rye,  close  upon  the  sea.  There  was  an 
aridity  in  the  sermons  and  in  the  aspect  of  the 
preacher,  that  bore  as  strong  a  resemblance  to  the 
sand  upon  tlie  sea-shore  as  the  Rev.  Mr.  Litchfield's 
did  to  the  calling  of  his  flock.  They  were  both  like 
those  wholesome  fruits,  whose  mellow  and  sweet 
qualities  are  covered  with  a  rough  and  husky  rind. 
Mr.  Litchfield's  prayers,  made  up  of  quotations  of  the 
highly  figurative  language  of  Scripture,  never  varied ; 
if  he  had  been  cut  short  in  any  part  of  them,  the 
youngest  of  his  hearers  could  have  taken  up  the  strain 
and  gone  on  to  the  end. 

Those  ministers  who  were  settled  in  the  parishes 
upon  the  borders  of  the  sea,  whose  hearers  were  part 
fishermen,  part  agriculturists,  were  eminently  prac- 
tical men ;  they  were  teachers  and  pioneers  for  both 
worlds,  and  they  seemed  to  enjoy  'the  blessings  of 
heaven  above,  and  the  blessing  of  the  deep  that  lieth 
under;  the  dew  of  the  mountains,  and  the  riches  of 
the  deep  that  coucheth  beneath ' ;  for  many  of  them 
died  comparatively  rich,  even  in  the  goods  of  this 
world. 

There  is  an  anecdote  told  of  one  of  the  Piscataqua 
Association,  who,  addressing  a  society  of  fishermen, 
wished  to  adapt  his  discourse  to  the  understanding  of 
his  hearers.  He  inquired,  '  Supposing,  in  a  northeast 
storm,  you  should  be  taken  short  in  the  bay,  your 
hearts  trembling  with  fear,  and  nothing  but  death  be- 
fore you,  whither  would  your  thoughts  turn  ?  to  whom 
would  you  fly  ?'  One  of  the  hearers,  arrested  by  the 
description,  cried  out,  '  Why,  in  that  case,  I  should 
hoist  the  foresail  and  scud  away  for  Squam.' 


"34  PISCATAQUA    ASSOCIATION 

The  Rev,  Mr.  Chandler,  of  Eliot,  taught  his  parish 
how  to  turn  the  waste  places,  literally,  into  a  garden, 
and  to  make  the  desert  blossom  as  the  rose.  He  was 
the  first  who  supplied  the  Portsmouth  market  with 
vegetables.  He  taught  the  women  to  be  the  best  of 
husbandmen,  to  work  double  tides,  with  the  hoe  and 
the  oar ;  and  withal,  he  contrived  to  bring  an  unusual 
degree  of  refinement  for  the  time  and  place  into  his 
parish,  and  to  cultivate  the  best  affections  of  his  peo- 
ple. The  moral  soil  kept  pace  with  the  natural,  and 
while  this  portion  of  the  shores  of  the  Piscataqua 
was  distinguished  for  its  deeper  verdure,  its  richer 
'foliage,  the  people  were  remarkable  for  the  courtesy 
of  their  manners  and  the  honesty  of  their  dealings. 
The  wives  of  the  fishermen  were  the  market-women' 
of  Portsmouth.  There  was  a  small  market-house 
where  they  assembled,  after  having  made  fast  the 
boats  which  they  rowed  with  their  own  hands,  and 
then  dispersed  themselves,  with  their  wares,  through 
the  town. 

There  were  families  that  had  been  furnished  by  the 
selfsame  women  long  years,  from  blooming  youth  to 
wrinkled  age,  with  eggs,  berries,  chickens,  spun  yarn, 
knitted  stockings,  &c.,  coming  as  regularly  as  the 
Saturday  came,  till  a  bond  of  mutual  dependence  was 
formed ;  and  the  familiar  face  that  had  been  comely 
in  youth  continued  to  them  the  same,  although  to 
strangers  it  assumed  the  witch-like  appearance  of 
Meg  Merrilies. 

One  more  of  the  Association,  so  familiar  and  hon- 
ored in  the  youth  of  the  writer,  shall  be  mentioned. 
The  Rev.  Jacob  Abbot,  of  Hampton  Falls,  was  a  man 
of  extreme  sensibility,  and  of  an  inequality  of  tem- 


OF    MKXISTERS.  35 

p-^rrment  which  subjected  him  to  alternate  seasons  of 
dejection  and  exhilaration.  His  countenance  imme- 
diately betrayed  which  state  of  feeling  predominated, 
and  all  his  services,  even  in  the  pulpit,  partook  of  the 
variableness  of  his  temperament.  He  was  dear  to 
children  and  young  people,  from  the  tender  and  fa- 
miliar interest  he  felt  in  their  improvement.  He  was 
always  a  welcome  guest,  from  his  delicate  fear  of 
g  ving  trouble  ;  and  as  he  continued  a  more  intimate 
intercourse  with  Massachusetts,  and  the  literary  and 
polite  world  there,  than  some  others  of  the  Associa- 
tion, his  conversation  was  more  rich  and  varied,  and 
more  entertaining  to  the  young. 

As  has  been  said  above,  these  ministers  differed 
Avidely  in  their  religious  views;  between  the  two  ex- 
tremes of  the  strict  Calvinist  and  the  believer  in 
universal  salvation  was  included  among  them  every 
shade  of  Protestant  faith.  Although  their  opinions 
were  freely  discussed  in  these  meetings,  they  do  not 
appear  in  any  offensive  prominence  in  the  two  pub- 
lications they  put  forth,  the  Missionary  Magazine  and 
the  Piscataqua  Prayer-Book,  but  were  merged  in  the 
great  object  of  their  writing  and  their  preaching,  to 
turn  sinners  to  God  by  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  to 
produce  virtuous  and  holy  lives. 

The  Piscataqua  Missionary  Magazine  was  a  boon 
in  their  families.  Like  the  new  year's  almanac,  it 
was  read  from  the  first  page  to  the  last,  —  most  grate- 
fully, if  it  contained  an  'entertaining  anecdote';  and 
news  of  even  missionary  proceedings  was  read  with 
avidity,  at  a  time  when  there  was  no  yellow,  nor 
blue,  nor  brown-covered  literature  to  fill  np  the  Sun- 
day hours  that  were  not  spent  in  the  sanctuary. 


36  PISCATAQUA    ASSOCIATION     OF    MIMSTERS. 

The  other  publication  was  'A  Prayer-Book  for  the 
Use  of  Families,'  in  which  the  address  to  heads  of 
families  was  written  by  Dr.  Buckminster.  There  is 
in  this  such  a  remarkable  absence  of  sectarianism, 
and  such  a  unity  of  spirit,  that  all  the  prayers  seem 
to  have  proceeded  from  one  mind  and  one  heart, 
together  with  a  simplicity  of  faith  and  expression  that 
could  be  understood  by  a  child. 

The  remarks  that  have  been  made  touching  the 
unanimity  of  feeling  in  the  Piscataqua  Association 
must  be  understood  to  refer  to  the  close  of  the  last 
century,  before  the  critical  study  of  the  Scriptures 
had  introduced  diversity  of  opinion  upon  the  subject 
of  the  Trinity. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

PORTSMOUTH. PECULIARITY      IN      ITS      EARLY     SETTLEMENT 

AND    IN    ITS   SOCIETY. ITS  "WEALTH. PERSONAL    RECOL- 
LECTIONS.  MRS.    TAPPAN,    DR.    BUCKMINSTEr's    SISTER. 

Portsmouth  from  its  foundation  presented  a  state 
of  society  unlike  that  of  any  other  place  in  New 
England.  It  was  not  settled  from  motives  of  religion, 
but  for  purposes  of  trade.  Possessing  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  localities,  of  intermingled  land  and  water, 
its  advantages  of  harbor  and  fishing-ground  presented 
an  alluring  prospect  to  persons  wishing  to  gain  for- 
tunes and  to  enjoy  life.  A  well-authenticated  anec- 
dote shows  that  the  inhabitants  themselves  would  not 
hypocritically  appropriate  to  themselves  the  praise  of 
being  a  religious  society.  A  reverend  divine,  preach- 
ing to  them  against  the  depravity  of  the  times,  said, 
'  You  have  forsaken  the  pious  habits  of  your  fore- 
fathers, who  left  the  ease  and  comfort  they  possessed. 
in  their  native  land,  and  came  to  this  howling  wilder- 
ness, to  enjoy  the  exercise  of  their  religion  and  a  pure 
worship.'  One  of  the  congregation  rose  and  said, 
'  Sir,  you  entirely  mistake  the  matter :  our  ancestors 
did  not  come  here  on  account  of  their  religion,  but  to 
fish  and  trade.' 

The  settlement,  the  government,  and  the  prevailing 
tone  of  society  were  different  from  most  of  the  New 
England  towns.  There  was  no  Puritanism  in  the 
4 


38  PORTSMOUTH. 

early  religion  of  the  place.  The  settlers  of  Ports- 
month  retained  their  attachment  to  the  English 
Church.  Their  first  worship  was  Episcopalian,  with 
service-books,  hassocks,  glebe-land,  and  manse.  Even 
after  the  union  with  Massachusetts,  the  law  that  to 
be  a  freeman  one  must  be  a  church  member  was  dis- 
pensed with.  The  air  that  blew  so  freshly  over  the 
purple  waves  of  the  Piscataqua*  was  truly  the  air  of 
freedom.  There  was  no  persecution  for  religious 
opinions  in  Portsmouth.  The  wolf's  head,  that  was 
nailed  on  the  meeting-house  door,  did  not  indicate 
the  spirit  that  breathed  within,  f 

The  clergy  had  little  or  no  influence  beyond  that 
which  character  gave  them.  The  first  Congregational 
minister,  and  there  was  no  one  of  that  denomination 
settled  till  1671,  was  prosecuted  and  imprisoned  by 
Governor  Cranfield  because  he  refused  to  administer 
the  communion  according  to  the  form  of  the  English 
Church.  The  Governor  had  no  design  to  make  the 
church  Episcopalian,  but  sought  this  mode  of  re- 
venging himself  upon  the  minister,  who  had  offended 
him ;  and  four  out  of  six  of  the  judges  concurred  in 
the  sentence.  Could  such  a  thing  have  taken  place, 
under  like  circumstances,  with  a  Wilson  or  a  Cotton? 

Puritanism  had  little  influence  in  forming  the  char- 
acter of  Portsmouth.  The  people  were  impulsive  and 
enthusiastic  ;  easily  excited  to  rejoicings,  which  they 
demonstrated  with  great  splendor  and  extravagance, 

*  Every  one  who  has  lived  at  Portsmouth  must  recollect  the  pecu- 
liar steely  color  of  the  river. 

f  In  those  early  times,  every  one  who  killed  a  wolf  nailed  his  head 
upon  the  meeting-house  door,  and  received  five  pounds  reward  from 
the  government. 


PECULIARITIES   IN    THE    SOCIETY    OF    PORTSMOUTH.         39 

they  were,  on  the  contrary,  little  given  to  days  of  fast- 
ing and  prayer.  When  the  news  and  the  agent  of  the 
Stamp  Act  arrived  in  Portsmouth,  instead  of  appoint- 
ing a  day  of  fasting,  they  had  what  turned  out  to  be  a 
joyous  procession  and  jubilee.  It  began  indeed  with 
mourning.  The  bells  were  tolled,  and  a  funeral  cor- 
tege formed,  bearing  a  coffin  with  the  inscription* 
'  Liberty,  aged  145  years.'  This  was  carried  with 
many  ceremonies,  to  the  grave.  But  as  the  news  of 
the  repeal  had  arrived  before  the  day  that  the  act  was 
to  go  into  operation.  Liberty  was  rescued  before  it 
was  buried,  and  carried  off  by  its  sons  in  triumph. 
Magazines  of  refreshments  were  provided  at  the  cor- 
ners of  the  streets,  and  all  ended  with  a  dinner  and  a 
ball.  Indeed,  in  almost  all  celebrations  of  public 
events,  instead  of  a  sermon  there  was  a  ball ;  instead 
of  days  of  fasting  in  Portsmouth,  all  public  demon- 
strations of  feeling  ended  with  a  feast. 

There  was  no  parsimony  in  Portsmouth.  The  lib- 
erality of  the  town  in  its  early  days  was  shown  in 
valuable  donations  to  every  institution  of  public  utility, 
and  in  a  most  generous  grant  of  four  hundred  pounds 
to  Harvard  College.  The  salaries  of  their  earliest 
ministers  were  generous.  To  the  rector,  one  hundred 
and  thirty  pounds,  with  glebe-land  and  parsonage, 
and  the  donations  from  strangers ;  that  is,  the  money 
laid  upon  the  plate,  which,  in  those  early  times,  was 
placed  in  some  conspicuous  part  of  the  meeting-house, 
and  not  needed  by  any  poor  persons. 

There  were  large  fortunes  made  in  Portsmouth, 
and  the  inhabitants  imitated  in  splendor  of  living  the 
mother  country.  Governor  Wentworth,  a  man  of 
most  brilliant  talents  and  accomplishments,  with  his 


40  ITS    WEALTH. 

enlarged  views,  refined  tastes,  and  elegant  manners, — 
with  the  means  also  of  expense,  receiving  as  he  did 
a  large  salary,* — set  the  example  of  social  enter- 
tainments, and  promoted  every  elegant  amusement. 
There  were  more  private  carriages  and  livery  servants 
in  Portsmouth,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  inhab- 
itants, than  in  any  other  place  in  New  England. 
Even  as  late  as  the  end  of  the  last  century,  the  writer 
can  recollect  scattered  remnants  of  the  former  splen- 
dor. Within  the  old  meeting-house,  ancient,  venera- 
ble forms  loom  out  of  the  distant  dimness,  arrayed  in 
all  the  splendor  of  the  costume  of  the  court  of  George 
the  Third.  Immense  wigs,  white  as  snow,  coats 
trimmed  with  gold  lace,  embroidered  waistcoats, 
ruffles  of  delicate  cambric  worn  by  the  rougher  sex, 
cocked  hats  and  gold-headed  canes, — costumes  that 
would  now  be  assumed  for  a  masquerade,  —  were 
scattered  through  the  old  meeting-house  ;  and  then  at 
the  church  door  were  the  chariots,  with  livery  foot- 
men behind,  to  take  the  delicate-footed  gentlemen  to 
their  homes.  But  these  were  only  the  broken  and 
scattered  remnants  of  the  old  fabric  of  society, —  the 
preserved  ornaments  of  old-fashioned  splendor.  The 
real  wealth  of  the  town,  v/ithin  the  memory  of  the 
writer,  was  in  the  younger  men,  the  merchants,  sons 
of  the  workingmen  and  of  the  ministers  of  the  pre- 
ceding age. 

There  is  no  record  remaining,  accessible  to  the 
writer,  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  ordination.  He  was  un- 
married, and  went  immediately  to  board  in  the  family 
of  one  of  his  deacons,  at  this   time  consisting  of  a 

*  His  salary,  besides  his  house-rent  and  farm,  was  fourteen  hun- 
dred pounds.     A  large  sum  previous  to  the  Revolution. 


SLIGHT    SKETCHES    OF    FAMILIES    IN    PORTSMOUTH.  41 

middle-aged,  childless  couple.  In  the  memory  of  the 
writer,  as  known  at  a  later  period,  they  held  so  ven- 
erable and  so  peculiar  an  aspect,  that  she  would  fain 
transfer  a  sketch  of  them  to  her  pages.  They  dwelt 
in  a  small,  plain  house,  one  little  parlor  of  ten  feet 
square  containing  all  that  was  requisite  for  their  com- 
fort. The  deacon  himself  tended  a  little  shop  in  front 
of  the  parlor,  filled  with  needles,  pins,  tape,  quality- 
binding,  snuff,  —  that  most  common  luxury,  —  with 
a  small  pair  of  scales  to  weigh  a  copper's  worth. 
The  deacon  always  wore  a  full  suit  of  very  light  drab 
broadcloth,  with  white  cotton  stockings  and  silver 
knee-buckles,  and  a  full-bottomed  white  horse-hair 
wig,  always  powdered.  His  exquisitely  plaited  cam- 
bric ruffles  were  turned  back  while  he  was  in  the 
shop,  under  white  linen  sleeves  or  cuffs,  and  a  white 
linen  apron  preserved  the  purity  of  the  fine  drab 
broadcloth. 

His  solitary  mate  sat  in  the  little  three-cornered 
parlor,  whose  fireplace  was  an  afterthought,  and  built 
into  the  corner ;  the  bricks  forming  successive  little 
shelves,  where  various  small  things  could  be  kept 
warm.  There  she  sat  all  day  at  her  round  table  with 
needle-work,  dressed  in  an  old-fashioned  brocade, 
with  an  exquisite  lawn  handkerchief  folded  over  it, 
and  environed  with  a  scrupulous  neatness,  where  the 
litter  of  children's  sports  never  came.  In  the  stoical 
childhood  of  the  writer,  it  was  a  blessed  recreation  to 
be  permitted  to  go  and  drink  tea  with  the  old-fashioned 
pair.  The  visiter  sat  upon  the  stair  that  came  down 
into  the  room,  and  observed  the  process  of  making 
tea,  when  the  bright  copper  kettle  was  placed  before 
the  fire,  and  the  waiter  with  small  china  cups  took 


4s  SLIGHT    SKETCHES    OF 

the  place  of  the  work-basket  upon  the  round  table. 
Then,  as  the  evening  shades  gathered  in  that  little 
room,  and  the  tea-kettle  sang  louder  and  louder,  the 
mate  of  this  solitary  nest  came  in  from  the  shop.  His 
white  wig  was  exchanged  for  a  linen  cap,  the  cuffs 
and  the  apron  laid  aside,  and  the  latchet  of  the  silver 
shoe-buckle  unloosed,  but  not  taken  out.  His  place 
was  also  at  another  small  table,  where  were  writing 
materials  and  the  ledger  of  the  little  establishment. 

It  was  the  proud  office  of  the  childish  visiter  to  be 
permitted  to  carry  the  smoking  cup  of  tea  across  the 
few  steps  that  divided  the  tables  without  spilling  a 
drop,  more  than  rewarded  by  the  benignant  smile, 
the  courteous  politeness,  of  the  old  gentleman.  Yes, 
although  he  sold  snufF  by  the  copper's  worth,  he  was 
a  true  paladin,  chivalrous  to  his  companion,  whom  he 
always  called  'My  love,'  while  she  addressed  him  by 
the  plainer  title  of  'Neighbor,'  obeying,  no  doubt,  the 
injunction  of  Scripture  that  she  should  love  her  neigh- 
bor as  herself. 

In  this  frugal,  uniform,  secluded  manner,  they  passed 
the  evening  of  a  life  that  had  once  been  more  eventful, 
and  with  greater  means  of  expense,  and  in  retaining 
the  costume  of  better  days,  unsuited  to  the  business 
of  the  small  shop,  they  retained  what  conduced  to 
their  own  unassuming  self-respect.  The  old  lady 
sometimes  folded  her  work  and  closed  her  evening  in 
the  words  of  Dr.  Watts  :  — 

'  I'm  tired  of  visits,  modes,  and  forms, 
And  flatteries  paid  to  fellow-worms  ; 

Their  conversation  cloys,  — 
Their  vain  amours,  and  empty  stuff; 
But  I  can  ne'er  enjoy  enough 

Of  thy  dear  company.' 


FJiMILlES    IN    POKTSMOUTH.  43 

In  my  childish  simplicity,  it  seemed  a  beautiful  com- 
pliment to  her  companion  ;  but  as  I  now  understand 
its  significance,  it  seems  almost  a  parody  upon  their 
quiet  life. 

Another  family,  which  presents  a  contrast  to  the 
last,  appears  in  the  magnifying  memory  of  childhood 
with  fourfold  lustre,  and  their  dwelling  'like  a  palace 
in  El  Dorado,  overlaid  with  precious  metal.'  And 
there,  at  the  gate  of  the  palace,  stood  daily  the  chariot 
and  the  liveried  servants,  and  the  lady  came  forth, 
stately,  powdered,  and,  in  the  thought  of  the  humble 
child,  too  delicate  to  press  the  rough  earth  with  her 
foot ;  and  when  she  was  seated,  the  two  liveried 
negroes  stood  behind,  and  thus  the  pageant  passed 
on.  But  all  the  barriers  of  ceremony  were  over- 
leaped when  we  were  permitted  to  visit  the  great 
house  ;  for  there  was  the  only  daughter,  the  only 
child  of  the  house,  but  a  few  years  older  than  ourself, 
lively,  natural,  amiable,  and  generous,  in  all  the  fulness 
of  a  noble  heart.  She  was  ready  to  instruct  us  in 
what  she  knew,  and  ready  to  join  in  any  game  for 
our  amusement. 

Governor  Langdon,  of  whose  family  I  speak,  and 
to  whose  friendship  I  would  pay  a  long-deferred  but 
genuine  tribute,  was  one  of  the  most  faithful,  where 
all  were  faithful,  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  parishioners. 
His  daughter  endeared  herself  singularly  to  the  alfec- 
tions  of  children.  The  son  of  our  family,  of  whom 
I  shall  presently  speak,  was  happy  in  receiving  from 
her  his  first  impressions  of  the  youthful  feminine 
character.  She  was  several  years  older,  and  had 
seen  much  more  of  the  world ;  therefore  it  was  in 
her  power  to    give   him  many  valuable   lessons,   to 


44         SLIGHT    SKETCHES   OF   FAMILIES   IN   PORTSMOUTH. 

instruct  him  in  politeness,  and  to  watch  his  progress 
in  graceful  manners  and  in  deference  to  the  society 
of  ladies.  He  repaid  her  with  the  warmest  gratitude 
and  attachment ;  and  a  friendship  that  began  almost 
in  his  infancy  went  on  increasing  to  the  last  hour  of 
his  life. 

Another,  a  middle  group  in  the  faithful  and  true 
pictures  of  a  society  long  since  passed  away.  This 
is  the  family  of  a  favorite  physician,  the  dearly  loved 
and  trusted  friend.  He  also  wears  a  full  suit  of  a  rich 
brown  color,  with  cambric  ruffles,  silk  stockings,  and 
gold  buckles  at  his  knees  and  shoes.  His  is  a  small 
wig,  or  hair,  curled  and  powdered  at  the  sides,  with 
a  black  silk  bag  behind,  a  three-cornered  hat,  and  a 
gold-headed  cane.  As  he  picks  his  way,  with  quick, 
but  careful  steps,  through  the  muddy  streets,  his  hat 
is  completely  off  at  the  meeting  of  every  townsman, 
and  every  child  is  his  particular  care.  From  all  the 
fresh  young  lips  of  the  little  girls,  he  takes  a  tribute 
as  he  passes ;  they  hold  up  their  rosy  faces,  charmed 
with  the  familiar  courtesy  of  the  much-enduring  man, 
and  feeling  richer  for  what  they  have  given. 

Let  us  follow  him  to  his  home,  where  the  exquisite 
brightness  of  the  old-fashioned  andirons,  the  brilliant 
polish  of  the  furniture,  the  closely  drawn  curtains, 
give  to  the  modest  apartment  the  charm  of  elegance, 
and  something  even  more  home-like  than  elegance 
can  impart.  The  wife,  a  faithful  picture  of  the  olden 
time,  calm,  stately,  and  lady-like,  benignant  and  most 
lovable  to  children, — for  she  is  herself  childless, — 
brings  forth  her  treasures  of  a  yet  more  ancient  time 
to  charm  the  winter's  evening.  Another  figure,  dear 
to  my  childhood's  memory,  must  not  be  omitted,  — 


MRS.    TAPPAN.  45 

the  grandmother  of  the  hostess,  then  nearly  ninety, 
holding  herself  yet  erect  in  the  easy-chair,  with  lawn 
hood,  white  as  snow,  plaited  closely  round  the  silvery 
hair,  that  is  folded  back  over  a  cushion,  —  a  fashion 
almost  as  old  as  the  first  century  of  the  country. 
Beneath,  the  pale,  calm,  passionless  face  of  a  beautiful 
old  age,  and  the  sightless  eyes,  claiming  a  mysterious 
reverence  from  our  young  hearts.  How  much  of  the 
past  could  I  have  learned  from  her,  had  I  known  how 
to  ask  ! 

In  connection  with  the  society  in  Portsmouth,  as 
the  place  where  such  a  character  could  find  her  appro- 
priate sphere,  and  among  the  events  that  contributed 
greatly  to  the  happiness  of  Dr.  Buckminster,  should 
be  mentioned  the  residence  in  the  same  town,  and 
near  him,  of  his  sister  Isabella  and  her  husband,  Mr. 
Amos  Tappan,  who  was  one  of  his  most  intimate 
personal  friends,  and  for  some  years  the  deacon  of 
his  parish.  This  sister,  Isabella,  the  youngest  of  the 
family,  then  about  eighteen  years  old,  came  to  visit 
her  brother  soon  after  his  marriage,  and  Providence 
so  ordered  that  she  remained  the  constant  sharer  of 
his  joys  and  sorrows,  the  efficient  friend,  to  him  and 
to  his  children,  through  life,  and  not  widely  divided 
from  him  in  death.  She  followed  her  brother  in  less 
than  two  years  after  his  decease. 

Mrs,  Tappan  was  certainly  one  of  the  most  remark- 
able, one  of  the  most  heroic  (for  heroism  applies  to 
moral  and  religious  principles  as  well  as  to  heroic 
actions),  of  which  the  last  century,  so  fruitful  in 
noble  women,  has  left  us  the  example.  Although 
she  has  passed  away,  and  there  has  been  no  record  of 
her  deeds  on  earth,  yet  if  we  are  permitted  to  believe 


46  TIER    CHARITY    SCHOOLS. 

that  heaven  is  a  place  where  the  good  receive  their 
reward  in  observing  the  happiness  of  those  they  bene- 
fited on  earth,  there  has  she  also  met  her  appropriate 
reward. 

Mrs.  Fry,  Hannah  More,  and  countless  others,  have 
been  celebrated  and  admired.  God  forbid  that  one 
leaf  should  be  shorn  from  the  laurels  that  adorn  their 
honored  names ;  but  they  had  the  aid  of  fortune,  of 
wealthy  and  efficient  friends,  of  constant  applause, 
of  increasing  fame,  of  royal  approbation,  and  of  a 
final  reward  in  the  public  gratitude  of  the  nation. 
Mrs.  Tappan  wrought  for  many  years  alone,  with 
discouragement  and  illness  on  her  side,  struggling 
constantly  against  a  strong  current  of  worldliness  and 
avarice.  Let  it  be  remembered,  also,  that  she  began 
and  carried  on  her  labors  before  philanthropy  had 
received  an  impulse  from  the  spirit  of  the  age  ;  before 
charity-schools,  associations,  and  benevolent  societies 
had  an  existence  ;  and  in  a  place,  too,  where  no  fashion 
and  no  notoriety  could  attach  to  them.  Her  husband, 
who  fully  participated  in  her  benevolent  plans,  and 
helped,  after  her  decease,  to  carry  them  out,  was 
master  of  the  grammar-school  in  Portsmouth,  with  a 
salary  never  exceeding  seven  or  eight  hundred  dollars. 
With  these  small  pecuniary  means,  her  benevolent 
plans  were  begun,  carried  on,  and  completed.  With 
lion  heart,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  attack  avarice  in  its 
stronghold.  With  strong  faith  in  the  kindness  of  the 
human  heart,  with  persuasive  eloquence  and  unusual 
pathos  in  pleading  the  cause  of  the  unfortunate,  she 
approached  the  heart  and  the  hand  shut  close  upon  its 
gold ;  and  one  by  one  she  unloosed  the  grasp  of  the 
fingers,  and  by  degrees  melted  the  ice  about  the  heart, 
and  gained  her  purpose. 


HER    BENEVOLENT    OBJECTS.  47 

Her  first  object  was  the  establishment  of  a  charity- 
school  for  poor  girls,  and  connected  with  it  a  Sunday 
school  taught  by  young  ladies  enlisted  by  herself  in 
this  service.  These  children  were  taken  from  the 
lowest  and  most  wretched  class  of  society,  were  made 
respectable,  and  dressed  in  a  neat  uniform.  Great  was 
her  delight  when  she  saw  them  all  neatly  arrayed  by 
her  own  exertions,  and  following  their  teachers  to 
church,  where  a  sermon  was  preached  in  their  behalf 
by  her  brother.  Dr.  Buckminster,  and  a  contribution 
taken.  This,  it  must  be  remembered,  was  in  the  very 
beginning  of  the  century,  in  1803,  before  schools, 
especially  Sunday  schools,  were  thought  of  in  this 
country.  Finding  these  poor  children  still  corrupted 
by  the  debasing  influences  of  their  homes,  she  changed 
her  plan,  and  almost  by  her  personal  efforts  alone 
established  the  Female  Asylum  in  Portsmouth  for 
destitute  children.  This  institution  met  with  much 
opposition,  but  was  firmly  sustained  by  her  during 
her  life.  From  causes  which  cannot  be  here  detailed, 
it  failed  in  the  ultimate  benefit  expected  from  it. 

She  was  herself  childless,  but  her  home  never 
lacked  the  cheerful  voices  and  the  kindly  influences 
of  young  and  childlike  natures.  Had  her  house  been 
large  enough,  every  motherless  child  would  have 
found  a  home  within  it.  Three  young  relatives  of 
her  husband's  family  and  her  own  were  permanently 
adopted  by  them,  and  received  all  the  benefits  of  a 
paternal  and  religious  home;  and  were  educated  to 
practise  the  self-denial  and  to  value  the  benevolent 
influences  that  formed  the  atmosphere  by  which 
they  were  surrounded.  As  soon  as  her  two  adopted 
daughters  were  old  enough,  they  were  enlisted  in  her 


48  HER  BENEFICENCE  TO  THE  POOR. 

charitable  forces,  and  helped  to  carry  out  her  benevo- 
lent plans.  She  had  read  of  Sunday  schools  in 
England,  and  was  anxious  to  adopt  them ;  but  she 
had  yet  a  stronger  sentiment  in  favor  of  domestic 
religious  instruction  where  it  could  be  obtained. 
The  colored  population  was  very  large  at  that  time 
in  Portsmouth,  and,  from  the  prejudice  against  color, 
their  children  did  not  enjoy  the  same  privileges  as 
others.  Her  benevolent  heart  keenly  felt  this  injus- 
tice, and  she  sent  her  adopted  daughters  to  collect 
the  negro  children  in  town,  and  to  bring  them  to  her 
own  house,  where  there  was  religious  instruction  for 
them  on  the  Sabbath  ;  to  this  was  added  a  school 
every  afternoon  in  the  week,  in  which  they  were 
taught  sewing,  knitting,  and  reading.  Both  these 
schools  were  continued  by  these  young  ladies  for 
many  years.  This  Sabbath  school  was  probably  the 
first  in  New  England.  It  was  carried  on  in  a  humble, 
noiseless  manner.  It  was  scarcely  known  out  of  the 
street  where  she  lived,  and  the  investigation  that  has 
taken  place  about  the  honor  of  having  instituted  these 
useful  schools  has  left  this  humble  one,  and  that,  also, 
connected  with  the  charity-school  in  Portsmouth, 
wholly  unmentioned. 

It  was  not  children  alone  that  claimed  her  care. 
The  old,  the  neglected,  the  sorrowful,  the  deserted, 
the  forgotten,  were  all  her  children  and  the  recipients 
of  her  bounty.  Every  Sunday,  some  poor  old  crea- 
tures, weighed  down  with  infirmity,  friendless,  with 
none  but  her  to  pity,  were  invited  to  sit  by  the 
kitchen  fire,  and  there  a  good  dinner  of  meat  and 
pudding  was  carried  to  them  by  herself  from  her 
table ;  her  kind  voice,  her  sympathizing  eye,  cheered 


HER    BENEFICENCE    TO    THE    POOR.  4S^ 

them,  and  they  were  sent  away  refreshed  with  the 
reflection  that  one  friend  at  least  cared  for  them. 
Even  the  miserable  inmates  of  the  ahnshoiise  were 
invited  to  her  cheerful  table,  not  merely  to  be  cheer- 
ed by  a  good  dinner,  but  to  be  refreshed  with  the 
Christian  sympathy  of  a  heart  alive  to  every  impulse 
of  humanity.  This  was  not  all.  Her  visits  to  the 
poor  and  afflicted  were  the  daily  doings,  the  constant 
duties  and  cares  of  the  week.  She  sent  her  adopted 
children,  and  sometimes  her  nieces,  to  search  out  the 
victims  of  want  and  misfortune ;  the  highways  and 
the  hedges  were  explored  ;  and  all  were  included  in 
that  comprehensive  charity  where  the  only  claim  was 
suffering  and  sorrow. 

All  this  was  accomplished  by  one  who  was  more 
than  a  third  of  the  time  prostrate  on  a  bed  of  suffer- 
ing. She  was  subject  to  severe  nervous  headache, 
that,  after  some  hours  of  acute  suffering,  was  only 
relieved  by  opiates  and  sleep.  While  convalescent, 
she  was  planning  her  disinterested  labors,  which,  the 
moment  ease  returned,  were  resumed  and  pursued 
with  new  ardor,  before  the  return  of  another  attack 
of  pain.  To  use  the  beautiful  words  of  another,  'She 
seemed  an  angel  ever  on  the  wing,  leaving  a  path  of 
light  and  love  behind  her.'  Her  noble,  generous  soul 
seemed  to  act  from  the  instinct  of  beneficence.  It 
was  not  necessary  for  her  to  pause.  She  felt  that  she 
was  right.  Her  husband  sometimes  said,  '  Should  we 
not  stop  to  investigate  our  motives  more  fully,  before 
we  undertake  a  new  experiment  ? '  She  would  answer, 
'  I  must  not  stop.  I  must  act.  Let  motives  take  care 
of  themselves;  for  while  I  am  deliberating,  some  poor 
creature  may  be  perishing  for  lack  of  aid.'  With  all 
5 


W9  HER    SYMPATHY    WITH    THE    SICK. 

this  active  charity,  she  was  an  angel  of  comfort  and 
consolation  by  the  bed  of  sickness,  and  in  the  cham- 
bers of  the  dying.  She  brought  with  her  when  she 
entered  a  calming,  soothing  power.  Her  cheerful 
countenance,  her  bright  smile,  and  active  step,  when 
she  entered  the  chamber  of  sickness,  seemed  instantly 
to  banish  anxiety  and  despondency.  The  writer  of 
this  imperfect  sketch  well  remembers,  that,  with  the 
sensitive  feelings  of  childhood  and  the  anxious  fears 
of  ignorance,  she  sympathized  too  keenly  when  sick- 
ness and  sorrow  were  in  the  family ;  but  the  moment 
this  valued  relative  entered  the  chamber,  a  weight 
was  lifted  from  her  spirits.  'AH  will  now  be  well' 
was  whispered  to  her  heart,  and  the  sunshine  returned 
to  her  breast.  It  is  a  peculiar  faculty,  a  direct  gift  of 
nature,  with  which  a  few  favored  beings  are  endowed, 
thus  to  be  the  aids  and  comforters  of  others. 

As  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Tappan  was  occupied  with 
great  plans  of  benevolence,  she  did  not  therefore 
neglect  the  smallest  effort ;  the  cup  of  cold  water  was 
never  forgotten.  Among  small  aids  for  doing  good 
was  that  of  appropriating  a  room  in  her  house  to  the 
use  of  a  destitute,  lonely  widow,  whose  only  occu- 
pation was  making  over  old  clothes,  and  repairing 
flannels  and  woollens,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who 
had  none.  When  the  materials  failed,  she  spun  and 
knit  yarn  into  stockings  for  the  poor.  Bed-spreads 
and  comforters  were  here  quilted,  that  had  been  sewed 
together  from  the  smallest  scraps  at  her  daughters' 
charity  schools.  Here,  too,  young  ladies  were  invited 
to  come,  with  thimble  and  needle,  to  spend  a  cheerful 
afternoon,  leaving,  as  the  result  of  their  labors,  gar- 
ments for  her  destitute  poor,  and  fully  repaid  by  her 
own  cheerful  and  animated  conversation. 


MISSIONARY    ENTERPRISE.  51 

But  her  active  and  benevolent  spirit  received  a  new 
impulse  after  the  publication  of  Buchanan's  and  other 
missionary  works.  She  threw  all  the  ardor  of  her 
soul  and  all  the  energies  of  her  mind  into  the  cause 
of  missions.  The  rich  were  called  upon  to  give,  the 
young  to  aid  with  their  labors,  and  her  own  days  and 
nights  were  devoted  to  writing  and  to  the  diffusion  of 
missionary  information.  A  new  spirit  was  awakened 
in  the  country,  and  young  men  rushed  from  the 
plough  and  the  work-bench  to  schools  and  academies, 
to  obtain  the  requisite  knowledge,  in  order  to  depart 
as  missionaries  to  heathen  lands.  The  beautiful 
hymn  of  Bishop  Heber  fired  them  with  new  zeal  in 
the  cause :  — 

'  Fiom  Greei  lard's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  sand, 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 

From  many  a  palmy  plain, 
The3^  call  us  to  deliver 

Their  land  from  error's  chain.' 

The  call  was  obeyed.  The  young  missionaries 
were  welcomed  by  her  and  her  husband  to  their  hos- 
pitable roof;  their  wants  supplied,  their  wardrobes 
repaired,  their  old  clothes  exchanged  for  new.  For 
this  purpose  there  was  a  chest  of  drawers  appropriated 
to  ready-made  garments  for  missionaries  ;  and  perhaps 
no  satisfaction  was  ever  greater  than  hers,  when  a 
young  man  was  furnished  and  speeded  on  his  labors. 
Her  hopeful  and  imaginative  mind  looked  forward 
into  the  future,  and  saw,  with  rapturous  joy,  the 
heathen    forsaking    his    debasing    superstitions,    and 


§2 


MEETINGS    FOR    RET.IRTOrs    INQUIRY. 


whole  nations  converted  to  the  blessed  religion  of 
Jesus.  In  faith  she  looked  forward,  bnt  she  wit- 
nessed only  the  dawn  of  missionary  snccess. 

Mrs.  Tappan's  fervent  spirit  conld  not  be  satisfied 
with  the  common  and  ordinary  sources  of  religious 
instruction.  The  pious  fervor  of  her  soul  required  a 
more  intimate  union  with  her  fellow-Christians  upon 
spiritual  subjects.  vShe  was  active,  therefore,  with 
other  members  of  the  church,  in  instituting  meetings 
for  prayer  and  religions  inquiry,  at  which  the  presence 
of  her  brother.  Dr.  Buckminster,  was  always  desired. 
A  person,  then  in  the  morning  of  life,  who  was  pres- 
ent at  these  meetings,  speaks  of  them,  after  the  lapse 
of  thirty  years,  in  these  glowing  terms:  — 

'  Dr.  Buckminster's  addresses  at  these  meetings 
were  more  tender  and  impressive  than  his  written 
sermons.  Here  he  came  near  to  heaven,  with  his  and 
our  sorrows  and  wants.  Here  was  the  Bible  unfolded 
and  taken  to  every  heart,  and  Christians  trained  for 
heaven.  In  these  little  rooms,  unadorned  and  un- 
cushioned,  sat  Dr.  Buckminster,  as  a  ministering 
angel,  his  countenance  beaming  with  heavenly  love 
and  his  lips  uttering  celestial  truths,  leading  that  little 
company  to  the  waters  of  eternal  life.  They  drank 
there,  and  most  of  them  are  now  at  the  fountain. 
They  hunger  no  more,  nor  thirst,  neither  does  the 
sun  light  on  them  or  any  heat.  Those  little  white- 
washed rooms,  —  what  scenes  of  interest  could  they 
unfold !  There  I  learned  the  value  of  the  soul,  and, 
I  trust,  found  safety.  I  shall  never  forget  the  tender- 
ness and  earnestness  with  which  he  spoke  to  me.  The 
tears  and  the  love  of  the  pastor  penetrated  my  soul.  I 
feel  assured  it  was  in  that  little  circle  of  affection  and 


MEETINGS    FOR    RELIG40US    INQUIRY.  53 

prayer  that  he  strengthened  his  own  spirit  and  lost  his 
own  burdens.  Many  who  composed  it  were  unlet- 
tered and  unrefined,  but  in  this  weekly  intercourse  the 
elegance  and  refinement  of  his  own  mind  were  im- 
parted ;  they  cawght  the  gentleness  and  urbanity  of 
his  manners ;  they  became  strong  in  the  Bible  spirit, 
and  were  imbued  with  Bible  truth.  It  is  remarkable 
how  soon  they  were  all,  or  nearly  all,  called  to  follow 
him ;  and  what  death-beds  were  theirs  !  Most  of  them 
were  eminently  blessed  at  the  close  of  life.  Those 
peaceful,  dying  scenes  are  among  my  sweetest  memo- 
ries.' 

Mrs.  Tappan,  in  these  meetings,  as  in  every  thing 
else,  was  the  leader  and  encourager  of  others.  Her 
faith  was  rarely  clouded,  her  intrepid  spirit  scarcely 
ever  discouraged.  '  There  were  occasions,'  says  one 
of  her  adopted  daughters,  '  in  which  she  rose  above 
herself,  and  appeared  a  superior  being  to  all  around 
her.'  One  of  the  occasions  referred  to  was  after  the 
death  of  Dr.  Buckminster,  when,  as  often  happens, 
there  was  disunion  between  the  church  and  the  parish 
in  the  choice  of  a  candidate.  Mrs.  Tappan  was  deeply 
interested  in  the  gentleman  whom  the  church  had 
chosen ;  she  could  not  bear  to  think  of  a  disappoint- 
ment. '  The  day  of  decision  had  arrived,  and  she 
spent  it  in  her  room,  walking  the  floor,  and  endeavor- 
ing to  stay  her  soul  on  God.  At  four  o'clock  the 
parish  meeting  closed,  with  a  rejection  of  the  candi- 
date. The  brethren  of  the  church,  in  silence  and 
grief,  assembled  spontaneously  at  her  house,  but  she 
was  by  this  time  wholly  exhausted,  and  had  taken  to 
her  bed.  The  friends  went  directly  to  her,  and  burst 
into  a  flood  of  tears,  as  they  assembled  around  her. 


54  DEATH    OF    MRS.    TAPPAN. 

In  an  instant  she  sprang  up  in  bed,  and  with  heroic 
courage  and  eloquence  she  addressed  them  :  — "  What ! 
my  friends,"  she  said,  "is  it  for  us  to  be  faint-hearted, 
while  God  lives  ?  The  cause  is  his,  not  ours.  He 
will  take  care  of  his  own."  And  with  astonishing 
energy  and  eloquence  she  continued  to  speak,  till  all 
were  ashamed  of  their  want  of  faith,  and  went  for- 
ward with  new  resolution.'* 

Mrs.  Tappan  died  in  April,  1814.  There  was  a 
most  affecting  expression  of  the  attachment  which 
this  friend  of  the  sorrowful  had  inspired  in  every  class 
of  the  community.  During  her  short  and  fatal  •illness, 
her  chamber,  and  all  the  avenues  leading  to  it,  were 
thronged  with  crowds  of  deeply  anxious  faces,  asking 
and  longing  for  one  word  of  hope ;  and  when  she 
died,  the  grief  of  the  community  was  almost  as  fer- 
vent and  universal  as  when  her  brother,  Dr.  Buck- 
minster,  was  taken  from  his  parish. 

*  Mrs.  Bigelow,  of  Rochester,  Mass. 


C  HAPTE  R    Y. 

MARRIAGE     OF    MR.    BUCKBIINSTER. CHARACTER    AND    ANEC- 
DOTES   OF    DR.    STEVENS.  —  DEATH    OF    MRS.    BUCKMINSTER. 

DEPRESSION     OF    SPIRITS. SECOND    MARRIAGE. JOYS 

AND    TRIALS. 

Mr.  Buckminster  had  been  settled  in  Portsmouth 
three  years,  when  he  married,  in  1782,  Sarah  Stevens, 
the  only  child  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Stevens,  of  Kittery 
Point.  Kittery  Point,  upon  the  Piscataqua  River, 
opposite  to  Portsmouth,  was  at  this  and  at  an  ear- 
lier period  a  fair  town,  in  a  flourishing  condition. 
Merchants  of  large  property  made  it  their  residence  ; 
spacious  houses  were  built,  and  strangers  were  much 
allured  to  the  spot  to  enjoy  the  elegant  hospitality  of 
Sir  William  Pepperell.  Dr.  Stevens  lived  to  see  the 
decline  of  the  place,  the  death  or  removal  of  his  old 
friends,  while  the  beautiful  spot  assumed  almost  its 
present  appearance  ;  where  the  bright-flowing  Piscat- 
aqua winds  round  empty  fields,  dotted  only  with  the 
old  trees  of  a  former  growth,  and  the  land  and  water, 
so  sweetly  blended  together,  are  varied  only  by  its 
ancient  tombs. 

The  history  of  Dr.  Stevens  and  his  family  is  some- 
what peculiar.  His  father,  the  Rev.  Joseph  Stevens, 
was  minister  of  the  First  Church  of  Charlestown, 
Massachusetts.  Ordained  in  1713,  his  ministry  had 
been  of  only  eight  years'  duration,  when  he  himself, 
and,  save  one  child,  his  whole  family,  consisting  of 


56  EEV.    MR.    STEVENS    OF    CHARLESTOWN, 

his  wife,  two  children,  his  wife's  sister,  and  a  maid- 
servant, were  all  swept  off  at  once  by  the  small-pox. 
His  second  son,  Benjamin,  then  an  infant  of  seven 
months  old,  was  saved  by  the  prndence  of  a  nurse, 
who  fled  with  him  from  the  contagion  to  his  grand- 
father's house  in  Andover. 

Mr.  Stevens,  the  minister  of  Charlestown,  was  a 
man  much  beloved,  and  distinguished  by  peculiar 
graces.  The  Rev.  Dr.  Colman,  of  Brattle  Street 
church,  wrote  of  him  a  short  biography,  as  a  preface 
to  four  sermons  upon  that  'better,  heavenly  country,' 
which  he  was  in  the  course  of  preaching  when  he 
was  taken  away,  to  dwell  in  that  'better  land.' 

From  this  source  we  learn,  that  'he  was  possessed 
of  great  personal  beauty,  and  no  less  distinguished  for 
the  brilliant  qualities  of  his  mind.  His  countenance 
was  grave,  of  a  sweet  expression,  and  full  of  life.  He 
excelled  in  conversation,  and  the  modesty  of  his  de- 
portment gave  a  singular  grace  to  the  superiority  and 
dignity  that  were  natural  to  him.  In  the  delivery  of 
his  sermons  he  was  distinguished  for  his  animation. 
His  eyes  as  well  as  his  tongue  were  wont  to  speak 
with  such  majesty,  as  well  as  solemnity,  as  com- 
manded the  ears  and  hearts  of  his  audience.  Indeed, 
his  natural  advantages  were  such,  that,  while  they 
formed  a  distinguished  divine,  they  might  have 
equally  qualified  him  as  a  judge  or  a  commander,  had 
Providence  called  him  to  the  bench  or  the  field.'  * 

It  is  a  striking  circumstance,  perhaps,  that  this 
description  of  Mr.  Stevens  would  apply   with  great 


*  See  the  History  of  the  First  Church  of  Charlestown,  by  W.  J. 
Buddington. 


DR.    STEVENS    OF    KITTERY    POINT.  57 

exactness  to  liis  great-grandson,  the  pastor  of  Brattle 
Street  church,  who  inherited  his  name,  as  well  as  his 
personal  graces.  Their  ministry  also  was  of  the  same 
duration,  —  eight  years,  —  both  dying  in  their  full 
strength,  one  at  twenty-eight,  the  other  at  forty  years 
of  age. 

The  single  scion  of  the  family  who  escaped  the 
ravages  of  the  small-pox,  the  orphan  Benjamin,  was 
educated  at  Harvard  College,  and  settled  at  Kittery 
Point,  at  that  time,  as  mentioned  above,  a  flourishing 
and  attractive  place.  He  married  Mary,  a  daughter 
of  Judge  Remington,  of  Cambridge.*  His  wife  died 
early,  leaving  him  an  only  child,  a  daughter,  thus 
motherless,  at  the  age  of  ten  years.  When  urged  to 
marry  again,  he  replied,  —  'I  do  not  feel  that  the  tie 
that  bound  me  to  one  now  in  heaven  is  dissolved  by 
death;  I  live  in  the  firm  faith  of  meeting  my  wife 
again.'  When  he  was  reminded  that  it  was  his  duty 
to  give  his  only  daughter  a  guardian  and  female  com- 
panion, he  said  that  he  thought  himself  able  to  be  the 
guardian  of  his  daughter,  and  that  he  did  not  wish  to 
place  her  under  any  authority  but  his  own.  And  he 
became  indeed  the  companion  of  his  only  child.  The 
union  between  father  and  daughter  was  singularly 
free,  unreserved,  and  beautiful. 

Some  anecdotes  remain  of  Dr.  Stevens,  that  are  as 
characteristic  of  the  manners  of  a  century  ago,  as  of 
the  individuality  of  his  character.  The  meeting-house 
and  parsonage  on  Kittery  Point,  upon  the  northeastern 
shore,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Piscataqua,  have  an  aspect 

*  Mr.  Ellery,  of  Newport,  grandfather  of  Dr.  Channing,  married  a 
sister  of  Mrs.  Stevens.  Dr.  Channing  and  Joseph  Stevens  Buckmin- 
sler  were  second-cousins. 


58  ANECDOTES    OF    DR.    STEVENS. 

and  situation  which  in  summer  cannot  be  surpassed 
for  beauty  and  variety  of  scenery,  but  in  winter  are 
bleak  and  exposed  to  storms,  and  at  times  the  river 
must  have  been  almost  impassable.  Tradition  informs 
us,  that,  after  he  was  somewhat  advanced  in  years, 
and  consequently  not  very  well  able  to  bear  the  cold, 
he  would  remain  in  the  parsonage  on  a  stormy  Sab- 
bath morning  in  the  winter  till  the  bell  had  tolled 
some  time,  and  then  he  would  send  his  servant  Sambo 
into  the  meeting-house  with  the  message,  that,  if 
there  were  but  seven  hearers  assembled,  'massa'  in- 
vited them  to  come  into  his  parlor,  and  he  would 
preach  to  them  there ;  but  if  there  were  upwards  of 
seven,  he  would  go  to  the  meeting-house.  He  would 
then  enter,  with  his  outside  garment  tied  closely 
around  his  waist  with  a  silk  handkerchief,  as  no  fires 
were  then  kept  in  the  places  of  worship,  and  thus 
protected  from  the  cold,  he  would  go  through  the 
services. 

He  used  to  ride  on  horseback  in  the  winter,  accou- 
tred in  the  same  manner,  and  carry  relief  to  the  tem- 
poral wants  of  the  poor  and  sick,  as  well  as  spiritual 
instruction  to  all  whom  he  could  reach.  He  was  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  every  member  of  his  parish, 
man,  woman,  and  child  ;  and  although  his  meeting- 
house was  usually  well  filled  in  good  weather,  and 
very  often  crowded,  he  could  tell  who  were  missing, 
and  if  places  w^ere  vacant  on  a  pleasant  Sabbath,  he 
was  sure  to  be  out  on  horseback  very  early  on  Mon- 
day morning  to  visit  the  absentees.  Few,  very  few, 
ever  put  him  to  the  trouble  of  going  to  see  them  two 
Mondays  in  succession. 

Sambo,  the  black  servant  already  mentioned,  was 


ANECDOTKS    OF    DR.    STEVENS.  §^ 

the  factotum  in  his  master's  small  family,  and  very 
fond  of  a  practical  joke.     One  summer's  day,  when 
one  of  the  clerical  brethren  came  to  visit  his  master, 
Sambo  tethered  the  horse  so  near  to  the  rocks  in  the 
pasture  that  the  poor  beast  conld  get  but  a  very  scanty 
meal.     When  reproved  by  his  master  for  his  inhospi- 
tality,  he  replied.  '  Massa  tell  Sambo  that  the  nearer 
the  bone  the  sweeter  the  meat,  and  Sambo  thought 
that  the  nearer  the  rock  the  sweeter  the  grass.'    Even 
without  this  anecdote  we  should  infer  that  Dr.  Ste- 
vens, although  extremely  liberal  and  charitable,  con- 
ducted his  affairs  with  shrewdness  and  economy  ;  for 
out  of  a  small  salary  he  was  able  to  lay  by  some  thou- 
sands of  dollars,  and  at  his  death  he  was  esteemed  rich. 
Dr.  Stevens's  intimacy  with  the  Pepperells  brought 
upon  him  the  suspicion   of  inclining  to  the   mother 
country  at  the  approach  of  the  contest  with  her  colo- 
nies.    After  the  death  of  President  Holyoke  of  Har- 
vard University,  in   1769,  '  the  minister  of  Kittery,' 
says  Hutchinson,  '  would  have  had  the  voice  of  the 
people  as  a  candidate  for  the  presidency  if  his  political 
principles  had  not  been  a  bar.'  *     An  anecdote  often 
related  indicates  his  political  bias.     Upon  one  occa- 
sion, when  he  Avas  preaching  in  Portsmouth,  a  gentle- 
man named  Blunt  had  a  son  to  be  baptized,  and  the 
ordinance,  according  to  the  custom  of  that  day,  was 
to  take  place  immediately  after  the  sermon.     In  the 
discourse,  which  was  somewhat  political,  Oliver  Crom- 
well was  mentioned,  and  '  soundly  berated.'     At  the 
close,  the  parents  and  child  were  called  for,  and  the 
father,  when  requested  to  give  the  name,  suppressed 

♦  Hutchinson's  History  of  Massachusetts,  Vol.  III.  p.  262. 


mJ  DEATH    OF    DR.    STEVENS. 

the  one  previously  selected,  and  called  out  in  a  voice 
loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  whole  congregation, 
'  Oliver  Cromwell,'  and  by  that  name  the  child  was 
baptized. 

That,  when  the  contest  was  finally  decided  upon, 
Dr.  Stevens  took  the  part  of  the  colonies,  is  apparent 
from  all  his  subsequent  history.  He  never  lost  in  the 
smallest  degree  the  respect  and  affection  of  his  own 
parish  or  of  the  country.  His  death  took  place  in 
1791.  An  aged  woman  now  living  relates,  that  at 
his  funeral  the  shore  of  the  beautiful  point  was  lined 
with  boats,  and  the  meeting-house  crowded  to  over- 
flowing with  a  weeping  multitude.  Another  aged 
person  says,  that,  to  the  day  of  his  death,  he  was  an 
early  riser  ;  that  being  employed  at  work  opposite  the 
parsonage  the  year  of  his  death,  the  first  person  he 
saw  on  every  summer  morning  was  Dr.  Stevens,  at 
his  study  window,  with  his  book  in  his  hand,  just  as 
the  sun  was  rising. 

The  writer,  some  years  ago,  met  with  a  singular 
proof  of  the  whimsical  idea  Dr.  Stevens's  parishioners 
entertained  of  his  great  learning.  Passing  in  a  small 
boat  over  the  river  to  the  '  Point,'  an  ancient  boat- 
man who  was  no  bad  representative  of  Charon  him- 
selt',  sat  at  the  helm,  and  paddled  the  boat  across. 
Being  asked  if  he  remembered  Dr.  Stevens,  —  'Re- 
member him,  indeed  ! '  he  answered  ;  '  he  not  only 
baptized,  but  he  married  me  also.  Ah  ! '  he  said,  -he 
was  a  prodigiously  learned  man,  and  never  spoke 
except  in  Greek  and  Hebrew.' 

While  the  French  fleet  were  stationed  in  the  har- 
bor near  by,  during  the  war,  the  ofllcers  were  much 
in  the  habit  of  enjdying  the  hospitality  of  Dr.  Ste- 


SARAH    STEVENS.  61 

vens's  parsonage,  and  this  vicinity  came  very  near  to 
depriving  him  of  his  only  daughter.  The  father  of 
an  only  child  could  not  consent  to  her  leaving  him 
for  a  distant  country,  and  the  decision  of  the  father 
was  unquestioned  by  the  daughter. 

The  experiment  of  educating  his  daughter  himself, 
and  carrying  her  through  the  years  of  youth  without 
female  companionship,  was  eminently  successful,  if 
we  may  rely  upon  the  testimony  of  all  who  knew 
her.  She  went  to  no  dame's  school,  to  no  school 
whatever,  and,  except  in  visits  made  to  her  mother's 
relations,  her  father  was  her  sole  companion,  and  her 
instructor  in  English  literature,  —  for  female  educa- 
tion in  those  days  went  no  further,  —  and  the  relation 
between  them  was  as  unreserved  as  it  was  singular 
and  beautiful.  A  contemporary,  now  eighty-eight 
years  old,  writes, —  'Sarah  Stevens  was  quoted  as  a 
model  of  perfection  by  all  who  knew  her.'  Only  a 
few  years  ago,  the  aged  inhabitants  of  Kittery  de- 
lighted to  describe  her  to  the  writer  as  she  remained 
in  their  memory  in  her  riding-habit  —  or  Joseph^  as  it 
was  then  called  —  and  beaver  hat,  as  she  rode  by  her 
father's  side  when  he  made  his  parochial  visits,  and 
the  very  chair  she  sat  in  has  been  fondly  pointed  out. 
Traces,  too,  of  her  cultivating  hand  remain  in  the 
very  shrubbery  that  shaded  her  window,  while  all 
else  is  desolate  about  the  parsonage. 

With  extreme  natural  sensibility,  the  seclusion  and 
the  romantic  scenery  in  which  she  lived  were  calcu- 
lated to  develop  the  imagination,  and  to  give  a  senti- 
mental turn  to  her  thoughts,  which  was  checked  by 
the  stern  good  sense  of  the  father.  Her  letters  show 
that  she  sometimes  pined  under  her  extreme  solitude, 


62  LETTERS    OF 

when  winter  storms  lashed  into  foam  the  river  that 
divided  them  from  all  society,  and  no  boat  could  pass 
to  their  secluded  dwelling.  Dr.  Stevens  was  furnished 
with  resources  for  a  winter's  day  such  as  few  of  his 
brethren  possessed,  in  the  library,  splendid  for  those 
times,  which  was  left  him  by  Sir  William  Pepperell. 
The  books  were  mostly  English  editions  of  the  very 
best  authors.  At  his  own  death,  he  bequeathed  them 
for  the  use  of  the  ministers  of  York  and  Kittery. 

The  first  letter  written  after  her  marriage,  at  the 
first  separation  from  her  husband,  shows  the  extreme 
tenderness  of  her  attachment  to  him.  He  was  absent 
on  an  exchange  with  Dr.  Morse  of  Charlestown. 

'  I  have  r'etired  to  my  chamber,  but  my  spirits  are  so  sunk 
by  the  absence  of  my  dearest  friend,  that  I  cannot  think  of 
going  to  bed,  and  will  try  by  this  imaginary  conversation, 
by  the  aid  of  the  pen,  to  banish  the  gloom  for  a  few 
minutes.  Indeed,  my  friend,  I  hardly  ever  felt  more 
unhappy  than  I  have  this  day ;  and  although  I  have  attended 
meeting  both  parts  of  the  day,  my  wandering  mind,  I  fear, 
was  more  employed  upon  an  earthly  object  that  was  absent, 
than  engaged  in  the  service  of  a  heavenly  Friend  who  is 
always  present.  Mr.  Morse  left  me  very  soon  after  meet- 
ing ;  since  then  I  have  wandered  from  one  room  to  another, 
but  every  where  I  miss  my  companion.  I  try  to  reason  with 
myself;  I  endeavor  to  suppress  my  regrets  and  to  be  happy, 
but  as  yet  my  efforts  are  vain.  O  my  friend,  if  I  cannot 
bear  a  separation  for  a  few  days,  how  should  I  live  if  I 
should  see  you  no  more  ?  I  sometimes  fear  that,  for  an 
undue  attachment  to  an  earthly  object,  I  may  be  reminded 
of  its  sinfulness  by  having  it  taken  from  me ;  but  God 
grant  that  so  severe  an  affliction  may  not  be  necessary  for 
me.' 


MRS.    BUCKMINSTEU.  63 

'  Monday  Night.  —  One  more  day  has  passed  without  my 
beloved  friend.  I  would  not  send  this  letter  if  I  could  not 
tell  you  that  I  have  felt  less  unhappy  than  I  did  yesterday. 
It  is  not  that  I  have  thought  less  of  you,  but  I  have  schooled 
myself  to  be  more  reconciled  to  your  absence.  Miss  A. 
has  passed  the  day  with  me,  and  I  would  not  have  any  one 
a  witness  to  my  grief;  to  none  but  my  beloved  companion 

could   I  confess  it About   two  o'clock  we  had  a 

very  severe  storm  of  wind,  rain,  and  thunder.  The  former 
made  great  devastation  among  the  trees  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. Our  little  garden,  which  I  dare  say  you  have 
thought  of,  has  suffered  less  than  could  have  been  expected ; 
some  things  are  laid  low,  but  your  beans,  I  am  thankful  to 
find,  still  keep  their  place,  or  rather  climb  higher  every 
hour.  This  will  reach  you  just  after  Commencement.  I 
hope  you  have  enjoyed  the  day,  and  that  its  fatigue  has  not 
been  too  much  for  you.  I  trust  it  has  been  every  way 
agreeable,  and  that  every  thing  will  tend  to  your  happiness 
while  absent.' 

At  the  end  of  the  first  year  of  her  marriage,  a  little 
daughter  was  born,  that  died  a  short  time  after  its 
birth.  The  mother  expresses  her  resignation  in  a 
letter  to  her  father  :  — 

'  Heaven  saw  best  to  disappoint  our  hopes  by  taking  the 
life  of  our  little  girl ;  I  could  have  wished  that  it  might 
have  been  spared,  but  it  was  undoubtedly  best  for  us,  as 
well  as  for  the  babe,  that  it  was  not,  therefore  I  am  resigned 
and  contented.  I  have  great  reason  to  be  thankful  that  my 
own  life  was  spared.  I  enjoy  many  more  blessings  than 
I  deserve.  My  lot  is  a  most  blessed  one,  and  I  wish  I 
may  not  be  wanting  in  gratitude  to  the  Giver  of  all  my 
blessings.' 

Within  the  eight  short  years  that  this  grateful  and 


64 


ANECDOTE    OF    HER    SON. 


loving  woman  formed  the  domestic  happiness  of  Dr. 
Biickminster,  she  became  the  mother  of  four  children. 
The  second  child  and  only  son,  Joseph,  was  six  years 
old  at  her  death.  It  is  easy  to  see  how  much  influ- 
ence such  a  mother  must  have  had  upon  her  son. 
Her  life  was  spared  long  enough  for  her  maternal 
love  to  make  those  impressions  on  his  susceptible 
mind,  that  most  deeply  and  permanently  stamp  the 
future  character.  That  she  lived  long  enough  to  reap 
the  fruit  of  her  care  in  the  promise  of  most  gracious 
dispositions  in  her  son,  appears  from  an  authentic  an- 
ecdote, related  by  his  father  only  a  short  time  before 
his  own  death. 

When  Joseph  was  between  five  and  six  years  old, 
his  parents  left  home  on  a  journey  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  his  father,  when  he  took  leave  of  the  boy,  said, 
rather  jestingly,  —  'Well,  my  son,  you  must  have  an 
eye  to  the  family  while  I  am  absent,  and  see  that 
every  thing  goes  on  in  its  accustomed  regularity,' 
—  never  suspecting  the  extent  to  which  his  suggestion 
would  be  acted  upon.  Joseph  accordingly,  as  soon  as 
the  hours  of  school  were  over,  repaired  to  his  father's 
study,  and  spent  the  time  alone  with  the  books ;  and 
when  the  hour  for  the  morning  or  evening  devotions 
of  the  family  arrived,  he  rang  the  bell,  and,  in  his 
sweet,  childish  voice,  summoned  the  inmates  of  the 
house  to  prayers.  He  read  a  chapter,  with  the  com- 
mentary, as  usual,  and  concluded  with  a  short  prayer  ; 
and  this  with  so  much  gravity  and  solemnity,  that, 
instead  of  any  approach  to  levity  in  the  servants,  they 
were  impressed  with  deep  seriousness,  and  one  of 
them  was  greatly  aifected.     This  was  not  done  once 


'  DEATH    OF    MRS.    BUCKMINSTEE.  6§ 

or  twice,  but  continued,  with  unabated  reverence, 
during  the  absence  of  his  parents.  * 

The  mother  consecrated  her  son  to  God  upon  her 
death-bed,  and  expressed  the  hope,  that,  if  his  Ufe 
were  spared,  he  would  become  a  minister.  No  doubt 
he  would  have  followed  his  own  inclination  in  the 
choice  of  a  profession,  but  it  seoms  early  to  have  been 
the  decided  bent  of  his  character,  as  will  afterwards 
appear. 

The  letters  of  his  mother  that  have  been  preserved 
breathe  the  utmost  tenderness  of  devotion  to  her 
husband  and  children,  and  gratitude  for  a  happiness 
seldom  the  lot  of  mortals.  It  is  not  strange,  then,  that 
on  her  dying  bed  she  should  have  uttered  the  words, 
—  'Father!  the  cup  cannot  pass  away.  I  must  drink 
it !  Thy  will  be  done  ! '  The  contemporary  quoted 
above  adds,  '  No  one  ever  lived  more  beloved,  or  died 
more  lamented.' 

It  is  a  touching  anecdote,  related  by  the  same 
authority,  of  the  aged  father.  Dr.  Stevens,  when  his 
daughter  was  lying  within  a  few  days  of  her  death, 
riding  many  miles  in  search  of  a  plant  that  he  had 
heard  was  a  specific  in  complaints  of  the  lungs.  Fond 
affection  clings  to  the  frailest  support,  and  finds  food 
for  hope  where  others  find  only  despair.  He  survived 
his  daughter  only  ten  months.  It  was  said  that  Dr. 
Stevens's  death  was  occasioned  by  taking  cold  at  the 
funeral  of  a  parishioner ;  but  those  who  knew  him 
intimately  said  that  he  never  was  himself  after  the 

*  The  writer  would  add,  that  this  anecdote  had  always  been  tradi- 
tionary in  the  family  ;  but  that  it  is  inserted  here  upon  the  authority 
of  Mr.  Dana,  of  Marblehead,  to  whom  Dr.  Buckminster  related  it  a 
short  time  before  his  death. 
6* 


6e 


RELIGIOUS    EXPERIENCES. 


death  of  his  child.  The  tears  that  flowed  then  were 
not  the  most  bitter  that  have  been  shed  on  her  grave. 
When  God,  in  his  holy  and  mysterious  Providence, 
takes  a  mother  from  her  infant  children,  the  loss  is 
the  most  irreparable  to  those  most  insensible  to  its 
magnitude.  Theirs  is  a  twofold  loss, — bereft  of  the 
remembrance,  as  well  as  of  the  possession  of  a  moth- 
er's love.     She  died  July  17th,  1790. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  the  wreck  of  Dr.  Buck- 
minster's  domestic  joys,  after  only  eight  years  of  hap- 
piness, left  as  he  was  with  three  motherless  children, 
should  have  brought  back  the  nervous  distress  to 
which,  from  constitutional  temperament,  he  was  easily 
subjected.  At  this  period  of  his  life  he  kept  a  diary, 
consisting,  however,  almost  entirely  of  spiritual  exer- 
cises and  experiences;  of  records  of  a  sense  of 
sinfulness,  aggravated  by  a  morbid  and  exaggerated 
conscientiousness. 

Into  the  sacred  records  of  the  conflicts  of  the  soul, 
when'  overwhelmed  with  nervous  distress,  the  eye  of 
a  child  has  hardly  dared  to  penetrate,  much  less  to 
reveal  them  to  the  unsympathizing  scrutiny  of  those 
who  difler  from  him  in  religious  views,  or  to  the 
approving  gaze  of  that  portion  of  Christians  who 
consider  them  as  the  necessary  accompaniment  of 
the  conversion  of  the  soul  to  God. 

His  nervous  disease,  which  is  now  far  better  under- 
stood than  at  that  time,  ever  took  the  form  of  exag- 
gerated conscientiousness,  melancholy  apprehensions 
about  the  religious  state  of  his  friends,  and  of  his 
own  religious  condition  and  safety.  The  morbid  and 
diseased  state  of  his  health  induced  constant  iteration 
of  the  fear,  that  he  had  sinned  beyond  the  reach  of 


RELIGIOUS    DIARY.  6*' 

mercy ;  that  his  ministry  had  been  only  a  hypocritical 
exercise  of  sinful  or  insincere  experiments,  and  that 
he  had  ruined  all  with  whom  he  had  ever  been  con- 
nected. 

The  above-mentioned  journal  was  soon  after  dis- 
continned,  and  the  writer  has  heard  her  father,  later 
in  life,  remark,  that  he  considered  such  records  as 
delusive  representations  of  the  state  of  the  religious 
affections,  eminently  calculated  to  produce  self-decep- 
tion, misleading  the  writer  into  exaggerated  ideas  of 
the  evil  in  the  heart ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  by 
recording  transient  emotions  and  elevated  devotional 
feeling,  a  too  exalted  state  is  induced,  in  danger  of 
leading  to  spiritual  pride  and  to  false  security. 

During  the  last  illness  and  death  of  his  wife,  this 
diary  contains  scarcely  a  record,  except  of  the  alter- 
nate feeling  of  hope  and  of  despair  produced  in  his 
own  mind  as  the  slight  variations  of  better  and  worse 
in  the  delusive  malady  of  consumption  took  place. 
And  when  there  was  no  more  hope,  all  other  records 
were  wiped  away,  and  she  alone  'lived  in  the  book, 
and  in  the  volume  of  the  brain,  the  tablets  of  the 
heart.' 

In  this  season  of  his  affliction,  October  18th,  1790, 
he  was  chosen  Professor  of  Theology  of  Phillips 
Exeter  Academy,  the  trustees  of  this  richly  endowed 
institution  having  then  the  intention  of  making  it 
more  of  a  school  of  theology  than  appears  to  have 
been  the  object  of  the  founder.  Sympathizing  friends 
urged  his  acceptance  of  this  office,  hoping  that  change 
of  scene  and  occupation  would  heal  the  deep  wounds 
of  an  afflictive  Providence.  But  he  was  now  firmly 
rooted  in  the  affections  of  his  people  in  Portsmouth", 


68  HIS    PRAYERS. 

and  decided  to  remain  among  them  ;  and,  indeed,  no 
other  sphere  of  usefuhiess  could  have  been  half  so 
appropriate.  From  the  time  of  his  affliction,  his  peo- 
ple observed  in  him,  if  it  were  possible,  an  increase  of 
spirituality  and  fervor  in  the  work  of  his  ministry. 
He  was  in  labors  more  abundant,  anxious,  'to  spend 
and  be  spent  in  his  Master's  service.'  To  quote  the 
words  of  another,  'He  loved  the  work  of  his  Divine 
Lord  and  Master  above  every  thing  else,  and  nothing 
gave  him  so  much  joy  as  to  be  able  to  win  souls  to 
Christ.  There  was  a  wonderful  pathos  in  his  suppli- 
cations to  the  throne  of  Divine  grace,  and  a  wonderful 
variety  and  pertinence  in  all  his  professional  services. 
At  the  communion-table,  in  the  chamber  of  sickness, 
in  the  house  of  mourning,  and  at  the  grave,  his  ad- 
dresses were  extremely  appropriate,  tender,  and  deeply 
impressive.' 

It  is  said  in  the  Life  of  Dr.  Dvvight,*  that  an  emi- 
nent civilian,  hearing  Mr.  Buckminster  pray,  after  the 
death  of  General  Washington,  remarked,  that  Mr. 
Buckminster  deserved  no  credit  for  that  prayer,  for  it 
was  the  efiect  of  immediate  Divine  inspiration.  Such 
an  impression  was  often  left  by  his  occasional  ser- 
vices;  but  his  prayers  were  only  the  fruit  of  a  devout 
heart.  They  breathed  a  spirit  of  ardent  piety.  They 
were  evidence  that  'human  wants  and  human  sor- 
rows, the  dangers  which  encompass  the  Christian's 
course,  and  the  conflicts  to  which  goodness  is  ex- 
posed, were  subjects  of  his  habitual  thought.'  He 
considered  devotion  as  the  life  of  Christian  goodness, 
and,  to  promote  it  in  his  parish,  he  appointed   two 

*  Sparks's  Biography,  Life  of  President  Dwight,  by  W.  B.  Sprague. 


SALARY    AND   CHILDREN. 


evenings  in  the  week  for  private  meetings  with  two 
different  classes  of  his  people  ;  the  sisters  of  the  church, 
and  the  young  people,  who  were  prompted  by  an  in- 
terest in  religion  to  seek  counsel  of  their  pastor. 

In  the  year  1793,  Mr.  Backminster  gave  a  mother 
to  his  bereaved  children,  by  marrying  Mary  Lyman, 
the  daughter  of  Rev.  Isaac  Lyman  of  York,  and  sister 
of  the  late  Theodore  Lyman,  Esq.,  of  Boston.  With 
a  disposition  eminently  cheerful,  and  a  heart  entirely 
devoted  to  domestic  joys  and  interests,  —  as  a  fond 
mother,  and  a  careful  guardian  of  all  that  could  con- 
stitute the  charm  of  home, —  she  made  him  eminently 
happy  in  this  connection.  While  she  enjoyed  health, 
and  indeed  while  she  lived,  although  cares  pressed 
and  children  multiplied,  his  cheerfulness  never  failed. 
He  had  no  attack  of  nervous  disease,  and  but  a  mo- 
mentary depression  of  spirits. 

In  the  last  century,  the  salaries  of  ministers  were 
very  small,  at  least  in  all  places  except  that  which 
has  been  called  the  paradise  of  their  order,  Boston. 
Mr.  Buckminster's  society  at  Portsmouth  was  as  lib- 
eral as  any  other  there,  but  his  salary  was  not  sufficient 
to  spare  the  pastor  from  those  anxieties  and  cares  which 
are  peculiarly  wearing  to  generous  and  refined  natures. 
He  was  extremely  generous  in  his  disposition,  and 
hospitable  in  his  habits,  and  would  gladly  have  had 
all  his  brethren  at  his  frugal  table.  His  settlement 
was  upon  the  value  of  wheat  and  Indian  corn,  and 
varied  extremely  in  different  years ;  but  never  did  the 
amount,  I  think,  exceed  six  or  seven  hundred  dollars. 
With  these  rather  limited  means,  it  was  a  fixed  prin- 
ciple with  him  never  to  owe  any  thing.  He  never 
allowed   himself  to  purchase  a  thing  for  which  he 


70  DEATH    OF    CHILDREN. 

could  not  pay  upon  the  spot,  denying  himself  and 
family  rather  than  incur  a  debt. 

Providence  richly  endowed  him  with  what  has  been 
called  the  minister's  blessing,  children.  His  quiver 
was  full  of  them,  and  the  olive-branches  grew  thick 
around  his  table,  upon  which,  as  may  be  supposed, 
the  meal  was  simple  and  frugal,  and  the  elastic  cord 
of  means  needed  to  be  stretched  to  the  utmost  to 
make  both  the  ends  meet  around  a  year's  expenses. 
He  suffered  much  domestic  grief  in  the  loss  of  many 
lovely  children,  who  were  taken  away  at  the  most 
attractive  period  of  life,  —  at  the  ages  of  one  and  two 
years ;  and  the  tenderness  of  his  nature  was  deeply 
touched  at  such  losses.  Five  of  his  twelve  children 
died  in  infancy. 


CHAPTE  R  VI. 

EARLY   DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE   CHARACTER   OF   HIS   SON 

JOSEPH. LETTERS  BETWEEN  THE  FATHER  AND  THE  SON. 

EXETER  ACADEMY. 

Joseph  Stevens,  the  eldest  son  of  Dr.  Biickmin- 
ster,  was  born  May  26th,  1784.  It  has  been  men- 
tioned in  the  last  chapter,  that  his  mother  on  her 
death-bed  prayed  that  her  son  might  be  devoted  to 
the  chnrch ;  for  this  purpose  both  parents  took  the 
greatest  delight  in  cultivating  his  mind, — a  mind, 
too,  of  such  early  promise,  as  almost  from  infancy 
gave  indication  of  its  excellence.  I  quote  the  letter 
of  his  eldest  sister  :  *  — 

'  I  do  not  know  how  soon  my  brother  was  able  to  read  ; 
but  at  four  years  old  be  began  to  study  the  Latin  Grammar, 
and  had  so  great  a  desire  to  learn  the  Greek  also,  that  my 
father,  to  please  him,  taught  him  to  read  a  chapter  in  the 
Greek  Testament  by  pronouncing  to  him  the  words.  As 
early  as  this  he  evinced  that  love  for  books  and  ardent 
thirst  for  knowledge  which  he  possessed  through  life.  He 
was  seldom  willing,  while  a  child,  to  leave  his  books  for 
any  amusement ;  my  father  was  so  much  afraid  that  close 
application  would  injure  his  health,  that  he  used  to  reward 
him  for  playing  with  boys  of  his  own  age,  and  would  go 
with  him  to  pei'suade  him  by  example  to  take  part  in  their 

*  Afterwards  the  wife  of  John  Farrar,  Hollis  Professor  of  Mathe- 
matics in  Harvard  University. 


72  EARLY  DOCILITY  OF  JOSEPH. 

sports.  I  have  no  recollection  that,  when  we  were  children, 
he  ever  did  any  thing  wrong.  He  had  always  the  same 
open,  candid  disposition  that  marked  his  manhood,  nor  can 
I  recollect  any  time  when  I  did  not  feel  perfect  confidence 
that  whatever  he  did  was  right.  From  the  time  he  was  five 
till  he  was  seven  years  old,  it  was  his  practice  to  call  the 
domestics  together  on  Sabbath  mornings,  and  read  to  them 
one  of  my  father's  manuscript  sermons,  repeat  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  sing  a  hymn  ;  and  he  performed  the  service 
with  such  earnestness,  that  he  was  always  listened  to  with 
attention.  I  have  heard  my  dear  father  say  that  he  never 
knew  him  to  tell  an  untruth,  or  to  prevaricate  in  the  least. 
Indeed,  there  was  always  something  about  him  that  gained 
the  love  of  all  who  knew  him.' 

But  though  the  nature  of  the  boy  was  most  docile, 
rich,  and  promising,  the  history  of  his  short  life  will 
show  that  it  was  not  genius  alone  that  made  him  so 
early  eminent ;  that  it  was  to  his  father's  extraordinary 
care  and  Avatchfulness  that  he  was  indebted  for  the 
early  excellence  of  his  character;  and,  further,  that 
there  was  nothing  precocious  in  his  mind.  Every 
thing  that  he  was  and  did  was  the  natural  fruit  of 
previous  sowing,  watering,  culture  ;  so  that,  had  he 
lived,  what  he  had  already  accomplished  would  have 
been  regarded  by  him  but  as  immature  and  imperfect, 
—  marking  only  an  epoch  in  a  development  of  his 
mind  that  would  still  have  gone  on  in  continual 
progress. 

Still,  the  temperament  of  his  youthful  mind  seems 
to  have  been  of  that  elastic  and  buoyant  character, 
which  no  kind  of  education  could  have  depressed  or 
confined.  A  gentle  docility,  a  serene  gayety,  was 
ever  the  character  of  his  disposition.  This  shone 
always  in  his  countenance,  and  was  apparent  in  the 


PURITAN    EIUCATION.  73 

freedom  of  all  his  bearing.  He  was,  too,  in  his  boy- 
hood, eminently  handsome.  The  open  brow,  shaded 
with  chestnut  curls,  and  the  beautiful  hazel  eyes, 
attracted  the  attention  of  strangers  who  met  him  in 
the  street ;  and,  in  one  instance,  a  gentleman  and 
lady,  travellers,  passing  through  Portsmouth,  charmed 
by  his  beautiful  countenance,  followed  him  to  his 
home,  and  made  the  singular  request  to  be  permitted 
to  adopt  him  as  their  own  son. 

Thus  girt  round  with  all  domestic,  all  religious  in- 
fluences,—  all  obedience  upon  one  side,  all  watchful 
care  upon  the  other,  —  it  seems  as  though  it  would 
be  impossible  for  the  young  feet  to  stray,  or  the  young 
heart  to  throb  with  any  but  peaceful  wishes ;  and 
with  so  docile  a  nature  as  Joseph's,  all  went  well. 
But  in  the  stoical  homes  of  our  Puritan  childhood, 
free-will  was  too  much  restrained ;  the  child  was 
subjected  to  the  bonds  of  a  too  strict  obedience  ;  the 
struggle  of  even  innocent  desires  with  the  Puritan 
ideas  of  parental  authority  planted  many  a  cypress- 
tree  in  the  young  heart,  under  whose  shade  perished 
the  opening  buds  and  beautiful  flowers  of  joy.  It 
may  be  a  question  hard  to  decide,  whether  is  more 
conducive  to  the  happiness  of  the  whole  of  life,  the 
former  iron-bound  obedience,  or  the  present  unlimited 
indulgence.  If  it  be  true,  as  Goethe  in  all  the  calm 
sincerity  of  a  life  of  great  experiences  asserts,  that 
'only  with  renunciation  can  life,  properly  speaking, 
be  said  to  begin,'  then  the  earlier  and  the  more  com- 
plete the  self-denial  in  the  first  years  of  life,  the  more 
prepared  will  the  child  be  for  happiness  and  for  duty. 
But  when  we  reflect  how  small  is  the  portion  of  hap- 
piness that  sometimes  comes  to  dwell  in  the  same 
7 


74  FKIENDSHIPS    OF    BOYHOOD. 

heart  in  after  life,  is  it  net  unjust  to  abridge  the  inno- 
cent joys  of  childhood  ? 

'  Since  sorrow  never  comes  too  late, 
And  happiness  two  swiftly  flies, 
No  more  ;  —  where  ignorance  is  bliss, 
'T  is  folly  to  be  wise.' 

Of  youthful,  or  rather  boyish  friendships  formed  at 
this  early  period  of  my  brother's  life,  I  can  remember 
only  two.  The  participator  of  one  of  them,  Jacob 
Pickering,  Esq.,  of  Portsmouth,  yet  survives.  The 
object  of  the  other  youthful  attachment  was  a  very 
promising  lad,  of  the  same  age,  George  M.  Sheafe,  the 
son  of  James  Sheafe,  of  Portsmouth.  The  two  friends 
entered  Exeter  Academy  together,  were  classmates  at 
college,  and  the  early  death  of  Sheafe,  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  was  deeply  regretted  by  his  young  friend. 
His  letters,  in  the  round  hand  of  a  school-boy,  were 
all  carefully  preserved. 

Till  the  age  of  ten,  Joseph  remained  at  the  gram- 
mar school  in  Portsmouth,  taught  by  Mr.  Amos 
Tappan,  who  married  Dr.  Buckminster's  sister,  and 
who  was  brother  of  Rev.  David  Tappan,  Professor  of 
Divinity  at  Harvard  University.  It  was  now  neces- 
sary that  he  should  enter  a  higher  school.  Phillips 
Exeter  Academy  then,  as  now,  enjoyed  a  reputation 
second  to  none  in  the  country.  It  was  under  the 
instruction  of  that  most  excellent  man  and  renowned 
instructer,  Mr.  Benjamin  Abbot.  It  is  to  be  regretted 
that  no  history  of  Exeter  Academy  has  ever  been 
written.  Probably  more  distinguished  men  have 
been  educated  at  that  school,  and  have  been  bene- 
fited by  the  instruction  of  its  distinguished  preceptor, 
than  at  any  other  in  the  United  States. 


'OT.D    HANNAH,'  T5 

Few  anecdotes  remain  of  my  brother's  boyhood, 
and  at  the  distance  of  half  a  century  there  is  no  possi- 
bility of  collecting  more.  Nearly  all  are  dead  who 
witnessed  the  early  unfolding  of  this  bud  of  promise. 
His  eldest  sister  could  remember  his  childhood,  but  the 
present  writer  was  too  young  to  recollect  any  thing 
of  him  before  he  went  to  college.  She  was  not  then 
seven  years  old,  and  even  the  vacations  that  brought 
him  under  the  paternal  roof  have  left  only  a  faint 
impression.  It  is  remarkable  that  his  father  never,  in 
a  letter  or  in  any  other  way,  gave  the  least  indication 
that  he  was  impressed  by  the  extraordinary  unfolding 
of  his  son's  character.  His  early  excellence  seems  to 
have  been  expected,  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  only 
the  natural  result  of  extraordinary  care. 

There  were  two  persons  witnesses  of  his  childish 
attractions,  'who  kept  all  these  things  in  their  hearts,'  ' 
and,  had  they  lived,  would  have  preserved  rich  stores 
of  anecdote.  One  was  an  old  domestic,  who  had  lived 
with  his  mother,  and  remained  the  faithful  nurse  of 
her  children  till  their  father  married  again.  She  loved 
them  all,  but  Joseph  was  her  idol.  She  had  no  power 
of  expressing  her  love  and  admiration,  and  until  he 
was  grown  to  man's  estate,  whenever  'Old  Hannah' 
met  him,  she  threw  her  arms  around  him,  and  kissed 
him  on  each  side  of  the  face,  and  on  his  forehead  and 
lips.  She  always  found  out  when  he  was  expected 
at  his  father's  house,  and,  dressing  herself  in  her  old- 
fashioned  suit,  preserved  with  the  greatest  care  for 
Sundays  and  for  this  occasion,  she  was  on  the  spot 
to  greet  her  darling  with  tears  and  smiles  and  inar- 
ticulate joy. 

The  other  was  an  aunt,  the  sister  of  his  father, 


76  EXETER    ACADEMY. 

already  mentioned, — a  most  noble-hearted,  excellent 
woman,  a  strict  Calvinist,  whose  creed  was  sadly  at 
variance  with  her  warm  heart.  She  maintained,  in 
conversation,  that  every  little  son  and  daughter  of 
Adam  was  the  subject  of  sin  and  of  correction  before 
they  were  nine  months  old,  and  in  theory  she  was  a 
great  friend  to  the  rod ;  but  she  always  said  that 
she  could  find  nothing  wrong  in  Joseph,  and  never 
punished  him.  She  was  childless,  but  her  house  was 
never  without  two  or  three  orphan  children  ;  and  she 
became  so  indulgent  in  practice,  that  her  last  adopted 
child  would  have  been  utterly  spoiled,  had  she  been 
susceptible  of  spoiling. 

My  brother  entered  Exeter  Academy  in  the  autumn 
of  the  year  1795,  having  completed  his  eleventh  year 
the  preceding  May.  The  letters  of  the  father  to  the 
son  while  at  Exeter  were  preserved  with  the  utmost 
carefulness  by  the  boy.  Every  trivial  scrap,  even  on 
half  a  leaf  of  paper,  was  hoarded' with  a  miser's  care. 
They  have  been  treated  with  like  scrupulous  respect, 
and,  of  the  few  introduced,  not  one  word  has  been 
altered ;  even  the  original  punctuation  has  remained 
unchanged.  The  son's  letters  were  also  as  carefully 
preserved  for  many  years,  but,  with  other  family 
papers.  Were  destroyed  by  accidental  fire  not  many 
years  ago. 

The  first  and  second  letters  of  the  father  are  with- 
out date :  — 

;        '  I  have  in  a  sense  but  just  left  you,  my  clear  son,  but  so 

^ereat  is   my  affection   and  concern   for  you,  that  I  gladly 

ei^brace  every  opportunity  of  writing  to  you,  and  wish  you 

may  have  a  similar  affection  and  concern  for  us.     Your 


LETTERS  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  TO  HIS  SON.      77 

situation  is  such  as  I  think  must  be  agreeable  and  advan- 
tageous to  you,  and  if  you  behave  yourself  veell,  with  the 
smiles  of  Providence,  you  will  be  respected  and  happy. 
I  am  pleased  to  see  your  respectful  and  manly  behavior 
in  the  family  ;  continue  to  do  so,  and  especially  at  any 
time  in  the  absence  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rowland  ;  never  do 
any  thing  because  they  are  gone  which  you  would  not  do 
if  they  were  at  home  ;  nor  do  any  thing  of  which  you 
would  be  ashamed,  because  you  think  you  can  keep  it 
secret ;  such  conduct  discovers  a  little  and  base  mind.  If 
you  accidentally  do  any  mischief,  (and  I  hope  you  will 
never  do  any  with  design,)  do  not  endeavor  to  hide,  but 
acknowledge  it,  and  be  sorry.  Cultivate  a  sincere  respect 
for  your  instructors,  and  never  cherish  prejudices  against 
them.  Instructers,  who  are  entitled  to  the  respect  of  their 
pupils,  love  those  that  respect  them.  I  have  borrowed  a 
Sallust  for  you  from  Judge  Parker.  Take  especial  care  of 
borrowed  books. 

'  Do  not  study  too  hard,  so  as  to  injure  your  eyes,  and 
do  not  be  too  anxious  about  acquitting  yourself:  be  easy 
and  contented  in  yourself:  fear  God,  and  pray  to  Mm.  Be 
respectful  and  kind  to  all  men,  and  be  not  too  forward  in 
the  company  of  your  superiors.  Be  swift  to  hear,  but  slow 
to  speak. 

'  We  have  a  smart  shower  upon  us,  and  in  our  anxiety 
fear  you  will  get  wet.  Be  careful,  lest  you  should  be 
again  seized  with  the  rheumatism.  We  all  love  you  and 
long  to  hear  from  you.  Your  sisters,  though  they,  poor 
girls,  cannot  write,*  will  be  glad  to  have  a  little  letter  from 
you.' 

I  would  not  swell  these  pages  with  all  the  father's 
letters  to  the  son,  of  which  one  was  written  every 
week  during  his  residence  at  Exeter  Academy.     But 

*  His  sisters  were  of  the  ages  of  eight  and  five, 

7» 


78      LETTERS  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  TO  HIS  SON. 

it  must  be  recollected  that  the  boy  was  only  eleven 
years  old,  and  I  shall  select  only  such  passages  as 
show  with  what  minute  care  and  tender  solicitude 
his  every  footstep  was  followed  by  the  anxious 
father. 

'  Your  leUer,  my  dear  son,  was  received  with  pleasure, 
as  all  your  letters  are  ;  but  the  pleasure  in  this  case 
was  a  little  heightened  by  inclosing  your  first  attempt  at 
composition,  with  a  request  that  I  would  mention  such 
corrections  as  might  be  made  in  it.  It  is  very  well,  I  think, 
for  the  first  attempt.  I  do  not  discover  any  grammatical 
inaccuracies,  which  are  very  common  in  juvenile  produc- 
tions, but  there  is  a  little  inaccuracy  in  saying  "  these  are 
the  consequences,"  when  you  have  mentioned  but  one  real 
consequence. 

'  The  great  art  of  composition  is  to  write  easily  and 
intelligibly  ;  perspicuity  is  the  first  thing  in  writing ;  if  a 
person  find  that  his  meaning  is  obscure,  he  may  be  sure 
there  is  some  defect  in  the  attempt.  You  must  not  be 
grieved  if  at  first  your  preceptor  blots  your  pieces  whh 
corrections ;  there  is  nothing  attained  without  labor  and 
care,  and  it  is  a  happiness  to  have  an  able  and  faithful 
friend  who  will  correct  our  blunders. 

'  I  am  glad  to  find  you  disposed  to  get  forward  in  your 
studies,  but  you  must  take  care  of  your  health,  and 
remember  that  we  are  not  scholars  in  proportion  to  what 
we  run  over,  but  in  proportion  to  what  we  understand  and 
make  our  own.  I  have  known  some  boys  that  have  only 
studied  one  Evangelist,  better  Grecians  than  others  who 
have  run  over  the  whole  Greek  Testament.  You  will 
follow  your  preceptor's  directions ;  but  I  wish  you  now, 
while  you  are  so  young,  principally  to  attend  to  the 
languages. 

'  And  now,  my  dear  son,  I  must  repeat  my  admonitions 
and  exhortations  to  you,  to  abhor  that  which  is  evil,  and 


LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER    TO    HIS    SON.  79 

cleave  to  that  which  is  good.  It  is  a  critical  and  important 
season  with  you.  O,  be  watchful  against  forming  any 
vicious  habits ;  resist  the  first  beginnings  of  temptation. 
Fear  the  great  name  of  the  Lord  your  God,  and  do  not 
allow  yourself  to  use  it  profanely  upon  any  occasion 
whatever,  nor  make  those  your  companions  who  do ;  keep 
yourself  pure  ;  never  allow  impure  thoughts  to  enter  your 
mind,  or  impure  words  to  come  from  your  lips.  You  have 
written  so  well  against  falsehood,  that  I  hope  you  will  never 
contradict  your  first  attempt  at  composition  in  your  practice. 
Treat  all  your  superiors  with  respect,  especially  Madam 
Phillips,  [the  widow  of  the  founder  of  the  Academy,]  and 
be  obliging  to  her  in  little  things  as  well  as  gi-eat,  and  be 
always  forward  to  oblige.  Observe  the  Sabbath  in  public 
and  in  private,  and  let  no  morning  nor  evening  pass  without 
committing  yourself  to  God,  for  his  protection  and  blessing. 
If  we  lie  down  or  rise  up  without  thanking  him  for  the 
protection  of  the  night,  or  for  the  mercies  of  the  day, 
we  should  not  wonder  if  his  blessing  is  withdrawn  from 
us. 

'  I  say  not  these  things  to  grieve  you,  but  as  my  beloved 
son  I  warn  you,  and  because  I  love  you  I  admonish  and 
exhort  you,  and  wish  you  to  be  amiable,  and  virtuous,  and 
happy.' 

It  must  be  recollected,  in  reading  the  next  letter, 
that  the  boy  was  only  eleven  years  of  age. 

'  January  5th,  1796. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  We  are  always  glad  to  receive  letters 
from  you,  whether  their  contents  be  more  or  less  interesting, 
as  they  are  pledges  in  some  sort  for  your  good  behavior. 
Children  can  have  no  friends  so  nearly  interested  in  their 
welfare  as  their  parents,  and  they  should  treat  them  with 
openness  and  filial  confidence,  and  ia  every  interesting 
matter   seek    their   advice   and    direction ;    while   a   child 


80  LETTERS    OF    DR,    BUCK.MINSTER    TO    HIS    SON. 

governs  himself  by  principle  and  acts  with  discretion,  he 
will  have  nothing  to  conceal  from  a  kind  parent.  But 
when  he  means  to  give  himself  up  to  the  guidance  of 
passion  instead  of  reason,  he  must  seek  other  advisers  than 
parents,  and  his  intercourse  with  them  will  be  timid  and 
reserved.  I  hope,  my  son,  you  will  never  get  into  the  way 
of  reserve  with  your  parents,  nor  expose  yourself  to  the 
bitter  reflections  of  your  own  mind  :  young  people  may 
find  the  young  who  will  flatter  their  passions,  and  give 
them  advice  that  may  be  more  congenial  to  their  feelings, 
but  nature  directs  children  to  their  parents  for  counsel. 
You  know,  in  Scripture  history,  how  badly  it  fared  with 
Solomon  for  forsaking  the  counsel  of  the  old  man  and 
following  the  advice  of  the  young.  You  will  find  some 
persons  who  are  profane,  some  who  are  obscene  in  their 
discourse,  some  that  ridicule  all  religion,  and  some  who 
have  no  principle  of  any  kind.  I  hope,  my  son,  you  will 
be  on  your  guard  not  to  be  corrupted  by  any  of  them  ;  the 
worst  of  them  esteem  those  more  highly  whom  they  cannot 
corrupt,  although  they  may  affect  to  ridicule  them ;  and  the 
estimation  of  one  virtuous  man,  which  is  secured  by  good 
principle  and  conduct,  is  of  more  value  than  the  pretended 
estimation  of  a  thousand  of  the  profane. 

'  I  send  you  Xenophon's  Cy repaid ia  ;  you  must  use  it 
with  care,  as  I  hope  3^ou  will  all  your  books,  but  especially 
borrowed  ones.  A  soiled  book  is  a  suspicious  indication 
of  an  idle  scholar.  I  have  never  read  "  The  Retreat  of 
the  Ten  Thousand."  It  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  me 
what  particular  books  you  study,  provided  they  be  such  as 
are  calculated  to  forward  you  in  the  object  of  all  learning, 
to  be  useful  in  life  ;  this  should  be  our  object,  my  son,  to  be 
useful  to  our  fellow-men.  As  to  the  course  of  your  studies, 
I  wish  you  to  be  directed  by  your  preceptor. 

'  We  thank  you  for  your  wishes  for  a  happy  year,  and 
all  of  us  return  them.  That  will  be  a  happy  year,  my  dear 
son,  that  is  spent  in  a  faithful  attendance  upon  duty,  and  in 
the  love  and  fear  of  God.' 


LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER    TO    HIS    SON,  81 

'  August,  1796. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  I  was  glad  to  hear  by  your  letter  that 
you  were  better  than  when  you  wrote  before.  I  hope  you 
will  pay  attention  to  your  health,  that  you  will  take  a  due 
degree  of  moderate  exercise,  and  be  careful  of  being  too 
long  exposed  to  the  evening  air.  But  especially  take  care 
of  the  health  of  your  mind  ;  keep  yourself  pure  and  indulge 
no  impure  imaginations,  no  impure  talking  or  jesting.  I 
hope  God  will  bless  you  and  make  you  a  blessing. 

'  I  have  some  agreeable  intelligence  to  communicate  to 
you  this  morning.  You  are  no  longer,  my  dear,  without  a 
brother.  Your  mamma  had  a  fine  son  born  this  morning. 
You  will  wish  to  come  home  and  see  the  young  stranger. 
He  will  be  to  you  a  younger  brother.  God  grant  that  you 
may  be  to  him  an  example  of  every  thing  that  is  good  and 
lovely  in  his  sight. 

'  You  must  remember,  my  dear  son,  that  although, 
through  the  advantages  you  have  enjoyed,  you  have  made 
tolerable  proficiency  in  learning,  yet  that  you  are  very 
young ;  only  a  boy ;  and  that  you  must  not  consider 
yourself  at  your  own  disposal :  you  must  be  careful  of  the 
connections  you  form,  and  not  think  because  a  scholar  is 
older  than  yourself,  or  even  a  man,  that  therefore  you  may 
intrust  yourself  to  his  disposal.  Sometimes  older  scholars 
have  been  the  unhappy  instruments  of  ruining  younger 
ones  by  poisoning  their  minds  and  corrupting  their  hearts. 
Fear  God  yourself,  and  be  a  companion  of  those  who  fear 
him ;  fear  Him,  my  son,  who  seeth  in  secret,  and  from 
whom  no  darkness  can  conceal.  Believe  a  father  who 
loves  you,  the  way  to  be  comfortable  and  happy  in  life  is 
to  preserve  a  pure,  open,  and  honest  mind. 

'  I  send  you  herewith  Priestley's  Lectures  on  History 
and  Policy,  which  your  preceptor  will  direct  you  how  to 
improve.  You  must  be  careful  of  it  and  not  soil  or  deface 
it.  A  neat  scholar  is  known  by  the  appeai*ance  of  his 
books. 


82  STUDIES  AT  EXETER  ACADEMY. 

'  Be  careful,  my  dear  son,  to  cultivate  the  fear  and  love 
of  God  ;  forget  not  to  pray  to  him  daily,  and  commit  all 
you  do  to  him. 

'Your  affectionate  father, 

'  J.    BUCKMINSTEK.' 

The  reiterated  charges  of  his  father  to  preserve 
his  books  with  extreme  care  were  partly  from  the 
consideration  that  most  of  the  books  of  his  advanced 
studies  were  borrowed  from  friends.  There  were  at 
this  time  no  American  editions  of  Cicero,  Sallust,  and 
Xenophon,  and  the  English  prints  of  classics  were  far 
beyond  the  means  of  expenditure  of  a  clergyman  of 
the  day.  The  delicate  boy  was  subjected  to  many 
hardships  in  consequence  of  his  father's  limited 
means.  From  Exeter,  and  a  part  of  the  way  from 
Cambridge,  he  was  obliged  to  walk  to  his  home  to 
save  the  expense  of  stage-hire.  The  absolute  need 
of  boots  and  shoes ;  the  necessity  of  having  the 
discarded  clothes  of  the  father  cut  down  to  fit  the 
son,  and  '  old  ones  made  amaist  as  good  as  new  ; '  all 
these  petty  material  interests  occupy  many  of  the 
letters,  and  find  a  place  in  all.  We  cannot  but  feel 
a  painful  sympathy  with  the  diligent  boy,  who,  when 
he  had  saved  all  his  pocket-money  to  buy  a  new  pair 
of  boots,  finding  it  insufficient,  was  forced  to  have 
his  old  ones  patched. 

My  brother  remained  at  Exeter  Academy,  under 
the  instruction  of  Dr.  Abbot,  more  than  a  year.  He 
was  so  thoroughly  prepared  in  the  Latin  and  Greek 
Grammars  under  the  instruction  of  his  father,  and 
that  of  Mr.  Amos  Tappan  of  the  Portsmouth  Gram- 
mar School,  that  he  had  no  occasion  to  spend  time 
upon  them  at  the  Academy.  As  he  was  only  eleven 
years  old,  it  may  seem  incredible  to  young  persons, 


STUDIES    AND    READINGS.  83 

who  at  that  age  are  just  beginning  the  laborious  task 
of  learning  the  grammars  ;  but  it  must  be  recollected 
that,  from  the  testimony  of  his  eldest  sister,  he  began 
to  study  the  Latin  at  four  years  of  age,  and  the  Greek 
nearly  as  early.  His  father  in  one  of  his  letters 
advises  him,  if  his  class  is  ciphering,  to  go  over  again 
with  them  what  he  had  previously  learnt  of  arith- 
metic, but  he  usually  directs  him  to  pay  his  principal 
attention  to  the  languages.  It  was  not  with  him 
as  it  was  with  Dr.  Johnson,  who,  when  asked  how  he 
had  acquired  so  accurate  a  knowledge  of  Latin,  in 
which  no  man  excelled  him,  answered  that  'it  was 
whipped  into  him.'  My  brother  was  never  punished 
while  he  was  at  the  Academy.  A  record  remains,  kept 
by  himself,  of  the  books  he  studied  at  Exeter.  They 
were  the  Greek  Testament,  the  Iliad,  and  Xenophon's 
Cyropaedia,  Horace's  Epistles,  Sallust,  and  Cicero. 
There  is  still  preserved  his  translation  of  Cicero's 
Amicitia,  and  of  a  part  of  Sallust,  in  the  round  hand 
of  the  school-boy,  bearing  the  rare  corrections  of  the 
instructer.  In  the  last  quarter  that  he  remained,  he 
reviewed  the  Greek  Testament,  Cicero,  and  Virgil, 
and  read  Livy's  Roman  History.  He  also  studied 
Blair's  Rhetoric,  and  Morse's  larger  Geography. 

He  kept,  also,  a  record  of  the  books  which  he 
took  out  of  the  library  of  the  Academy,  for  voluntary 
reading.  The  reading  of  a  school-boy  of  eleven  and 
twelve  years  may  perhaps  be  interesting  to  those  who 
are  curious  in  the  history  of  individual  mind,  and  the 
writer  may  perhaps  be  excused  for  thinking  that  every 
thing  is  interesting  in  the  formation  of  a  mind  so 
rare.  The  date  is  set  down  upon  which  every  book 
is  taken  out  and  regularly  returned.  They  were 
Rollin's  Ancient  History,  16  vols.  8vo ;   The  Life  of 


84  Joseph's  studies  and  readings. 

Cicero,  3  vols.  Svo ;  Kennet's  Roman  Antiquities ; 
and  D'Arnay's  Private  Life  of  the  Romans.  As  books 
of  amusement  he  has  set  down  The  Spectator,  Moore's 
France,  and  Sir  William  Temple's  Essays.  He  was 
fond  of  reading  romances,  but  rarely  indulged  himself 
in  so  attractive  a  pastime. 

That  he  devoured  books  with  the  greatest  avidity, 
appears  from  an  anecdote  which  remains  well  attested 
in  the  family.  In  one  of  the  vacations  he  had  pro- 
cured Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson,  in  a  quarto  volume. 
He  was  standing  leaning  upon  the  mantel-piece  when 
he  began  to  read,  the  book  resting  upon  the  shelf.  So 
completely  was  he  absorbed  by  that,  to  him,  fasci- 
nating book,  that  he  neither  moved  nor  paused,  even 
to  eat,  till  he  was  wholly  exhausted,  and  fainted  from 
weariness.  An  anecdote  of  the  same  kind  is  told  of 
himself  by  Mr.  Webster,  only  the  book  that  fascinated 
him  so  completely  was  Don  Q,uixote  ;  he  neither 
paused  to  eat  or  sleep,  so  great  was  the  power  of  that 
remarkable  book  upon  his  attention,  until  he  had 
finished  the  four  volumes. 

It  was  fortunate  for  my  brother  that  he  was  able  in 
some  degree  to  gratify  his  passion  for  reading  in  his 
father's  house.  Sir  William  Pepperell,  as  mentioned 
above,  had  left  his  library  as  a  legacy  to  his  grand- 
father Stevens.  Dr.  Stevens,  at  his  death,  bequeathed 
it  for  the  use  of  the  ministers  of  York  and  Kittery, 
but  with  directions  that  it  should  remain  in  possession 
of  his  son-in-law  during  his  life,  and  then  be  for 
the  perpetual  use  of  the  above-mentioned  ministers. 
There  were  some  hundreds  of  volumes.  Among 
them  were  many  valuable  books,  —  Rapiii's  History 
of  England  in  folio,  with  plates,  a  large  collection  of 
voyages  and  travels,  the  English  classics,  etc.,  etc. 


HIS    PREPARATION    FOR    COLLEGE.  85 

1796.  At  the  Commencement  at  Cambridge,  in 

Aged  12.  1796^  niy  brother  had  passed  his  twelfth  birth- 
day, and  was  wholly  prepared  to  enter  college  ;  but  his 
father  trembled  to  send  him  there  while  so  young, 
and  determined  to  hold  him  back  a  year,  and  then 
offer  him  in  advance  for  the  Sophomore  class.  At 
this  time  New  Haven,  endeared  by  old  associations, 
by  the  long  residence  and  the  warm  attachment  of 
his  father,  was  fixed  upon  as  the  college  at  which  the 
son  must  receive  his  education  ;  and  the  great  distance 
from  Portsmouth  increased  the  father's  anxiety,  and 
added  its  weight  to  the  motives  for  keeping  him  back 
a  year.  In  the  mean  time,  the  respective  advantages 
presented  by  the  two  colleges  were  considerations  of 
anxious  solicitude  and  the  subject  of  frequent  debate. 
The  father's  fears  of  the  influence  of  the  liberal  views 
of  religion  already  suspected  at  Cambridge  are  express- 
ed in  more  than  one  letter.  That  the  son's  inclination 
was  decidedly  directed  towards  Harvard,  appears  from 
a  letter  written  to  a  classmate  who  had  left  Exeter 
this  year  to  enter  that  college.  The  letter  is  in  a 
round,  school-boy's  hand,  a  close  imitation  of  the 
copperplate  copies  for  penmanship. 

'  Exeter,  Dec,  1796. 

'  Dear  Friexd,  —  I  cannot  let  slip  this  favorable  oppor- 
tunity of  writing  to  you,  although  I  have  so  lately  enjoyed 
the  pleasure  of  your  company.  I  will  now  endeavor  to 
avoid  the  charge  of  not  performing  my  part  of  the  corres- 
pondence. Did  you  arrive  safe  at  Cambridge  .'  I  should 
be  sorry  to  hear  that  the  surprising  activity  of  your  Canta- 
brigian nag  failed  him  in  performing  the  journey. 

'  I  fear,  my  friend,  I  shall  be  deprived  of  the  happiness 
of  residing  at  the  same  university  with  yourself  The 
8 


86  HIS  PREPARATION  FOR  COLLEGE. 

pleasure  which  I  should  enjoy  in  your  company  often  rises 
to  my  view.  I  have  remonstrated  with  my  papa,  but  he 
thinks  I  shall  enjoy  greater  advantages  at  the  college  for 
which  he  designs  me.  All  men  are  influenced  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree  by  prejudice,  and  I  should  not  wonder  if  you 
were  to  think  he  had  an  uncommonly  great  share  of  it. 
But  of  this  I  will  not  pretend  to  be  a  judge. 

'  My  loss,  occasioned  by  separation  from  you,  has  not  yet 
been  compensated.     May  you  be  always  happy ! 
'  Affectionately  yours, 

'  J.  S.  B.' 

That  my  brother's  remonstrance  did  not  amount  to 
a  very  earnest  opposition  appears  by  a  letter  of  the 
father,  written  ten  days  after  this  of  the  son  to  his 
young  friend,  in  which  he  says  to  Joseph,  —  'Your 
last  letter  to  me  is  a  very  laconic  exhibition  of  your 
feelings,  which  seem  to  be  keen  enough,  respecting 
your  going  to  New  Haven.' 

In  conformity  to  the  strict  obedience  in  which 
children  were  educated  at  that  time,  especially  the 
unquestioning,  unremonstrating  subjection  with  which 
in  our  own  family  we  were  girt  round  and  environed, 
probably  no  other  word  ever  escaped  the  lips  of  the 
son,  and  I  am  unacquainted  with  the  motives  which  at 
last  determined  his  father  to  send  him  to  Cambridge. 
Endowed  as  the  son  was  with  a  joyous  disposition 
and  a  serene  temper,  he  probably  would  have  gone 
with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  to  New  Haven.  His 
delight  is  warmly  expressed  in  another  letter  to  the 
same  friend,  because  he  is  not  to  be  separated  from 
the  friendships  he  had  formed  at  Exeter,  but  would 
enter  with  some  of  his  fellow-students  at  Cambridge 
at  the  next  Commencement. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

JOSEPH  ENTERS  COLLEGE. HIS  CHARACTER  AS  A  STUDENT. 

LETTERS  FROM  HIS  FATHER. 

1797.  At  the  Commencement  of  1797,  Joseph 

Aged  13.  -^vas  admitted,  one  year  in  advance,  to  Har- 
vard University.  Upon  which  occasion  the  father's 
letters  are  again  introduced. 

'  Portsmouth,  Aug.  10th,  1797. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  I  hope  by  this  time  you  begin  to  feel 
yourself  a  little  familiarized  to  college  and  its  customs,  and 
that  many  of  the  things  about  which  you  were  anxious 
cease  to  be  subjects  of  anxiety.  I  left  you  rather  abruptly, 
and  I  suppose,  to  you,  unexpectedly,  but  I  feared  you 
would  be  more  affected  by  a  formal  parting  than  by  finding 
me  gone  without  it. 

'  You  are  now  placed  in  a  situation,  my  son,  in  which 
you  must  exercise  care  for  yourself  and  the  things  you 
have  with  you,  without  depending  upon  others.  You  have 
hitherto  boarded  in  a  family  where  you  have  had  kind 
female  care  ;  you  must  now  take  that  care  yourself.  Keep 
every  thing  in  order ;  your  clothes  in  their  place,  your 
books  in  their  place,  and  be  not  in  so  much  of  a  hurry  as 
to  leave  them  in  confusion  and  disorder.  Lock  your  trunk 
and  your  study,  when  you  go  out.  Make  a  little  paper 
book  and  put  down  all  your  expenses.  You  must  bear  half 
the  expenses  of  the  room,  such  as  candles,  etc.  I  suppose 
it  will  be  customary  to  have  some  wine  in  your  room,  to 
offer  to  strangers.     I  hope  it  is  not  the    custom  to  offer 


0»  LETTERS  WHILE  IN  COLLEGE. 

scholars  or  classmates  wine  when  they  call ;  but  when  a 
gentleman  or  friend  from  out  of  town  calls,  it  will  be 
necessary.  You  appear  to  have  a  prudent,  worthy,  and 
manly  chum  ;  who  will,  I  hope,  not  impose  upon  your 
youth,  but  guide  and  direct  you  ;  cherish  confidence  in  him 
if  you  find  him  deserving,  and  avoid  the  beginning  of  any 
prejudice  or  dissension.  1  would  not  have  you  mean,  nor 
profuse  ;  but  entirely  just  in  your  part  of  the  expenses. 

'  Do  not  be  imposed  upon.  Carry  little  money  about 
with  you.*  Always  remember  to  wash  in  the  morning, 
oftener  if  need  be.  Comb  j^our  hair  every  day.  Endeavor 
to  keep  your  clothes  neat  and  tidy.  When  your  clothes  are 
returned  from  the  wasli,  put  them  smoothly  in  your  trunk 
and  make  a  memorandum  of  them. 

'  With  respect  to  study,  you  will  in  the  first  place  make 
yourself  a  thorough  master  of  your  recitations,  and  of  the 
lessons  assigned  you.  The  time  that  you  do  not  want  for 
your  recitations,  this  year,  devote  to  Hebrew  and  French. 
Mr.  Pearson  is  a  good  man,  notwithstanding  the  prejudices 
against  him,  and  will  be  glad  to  see  you  often,  and  to  give 
you  any  assistance  you  may  want.  *  Do  not  be  absent  from 
prayers  or  recitations  for  trifling  causes.  Never  join  in 
any  disorders  that  idle  youths  may  commence.  Study  to 
deserve  the  esteem  and  respect  of  the  deserving  part  of 
college.  Never  be  out  late  at  night,  and  spend  not  much 
time  in  playing  on  the  flute.  Do  not  play  in  study-hours, 
and  play-hours  will  be  better  used  in  exercise,  vigorous 
exercise,  —  walking  and  playing  ball.  Call  frequently  upon 
the  Professors,  and  go  very  often  to  see  your  dear  mother's 
friend,  Mrs.  Dana. 

'  Remember  the  advantages  of  the  Sabbath  when  prop- 
erly used.  If  your  eyes  do  not  fail,  it  will  be  a  good  habit 
to  read  the  Bible  in  Greek,  especially  the  New  Testament, 
on  the  Sabbath. 

*  This  advice  seems  almost  superfluous,  as  I  suppose  the  boy 
never  had  more  than  five  dollars  at  one  time. 


LETTERS  WHILE  IN  COLLEGE.  89 

'  I  have  been  thus  particular  because  you  have  never 
been  so  alone,  and  I  think  my  counsels  may  be  of  service 
to  you.  I  place  confidence  in  you,  my  son,  and  hope  as 
you  have  begun  you  will  go  on  to  perfection,  and  not  disap- 
point the  hopes  and  expectations  of  your  friends. 

'  I  have  received  the  letter  you  wrote  the  day  I  left  you. 
I  do  not  recollect  any  thing  to  add,  except  to  repeat  the 
advice,  and  beg  you  to  be  a  man.  Command  your  feel- 
ings and  don't  cry  at  corrections  that  may  be  suggested 
to  you  at  recitations,  nor  act  as  though  unwilling  to  receive 
advice.' 

It  must  be  recollected  that  the  boy  is  only  thirteen 
years  old,  when  his  father  advises  him  not  to  cry  at 
being  corrected.  The  quick  sensibility  that  in  boy- 
hood showed  itself  in  involuntary  tears  was  never 
wholly  conquered ;  when  not  exhibited  by  tears,  it 
often  subjected  him  to  unkind  remarks  from  older 
and  more  self-possessed  characters. 

A  week  only  passed,  and  the  counsels  and  advice 
were  reiterated. 

'  August  30th,  1797. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  I  received  your  letter  by  Monday's 
mail  with  a  great  deal  of  pleasure,  and  hope  before  this 
you  have  received  one  from  me  that  was  written  imme- 
diately after  my  return  home,  containing  a  great  variety 
of  directions  upon  matters  that  to  you  may  appear  small, 
but  their  influence  is  great ;  and  you  must  be  willing  to 
have  line  upon  line  and  precept  upon  precept ;  receive 
them  with  the  docility  of  a  dutiful  child  from  an  affectionate 
and  solicitous  parent.  You  have  no  one  to  take  care  of 
you  but  yourself.  Let  me  have  confidence  in  you,  that 
you  will  keep  yourself  out  of  danger  and  temptation,  and 
your  study  and  appendages  free  from  confusion.  Keep 
your  person  and  clothes  in  order  and  clean  ;  put  every 
8* 


Vft  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

thing  in  its  place  and  have  a  place  for  every  thing.  I  am 
sorry  you  had  to  lay  out  so  much  for  books ;  for  I  hoped 
the  money  I  left  with  you  would  do  something  towards 
defraying  necessary  bills  that  might  arise.  However,  you 
are  not  to  be  stingy  of  necessary  expenses,  though  your 
father  is  a  poor  man.  Pay  your  full  share  ;  only  be  careful 
of  your  money  and  keep  an  exact  account. 

'  Do  not  forget  regular,  manly  exercise.  I  am  glad  to 
find  you  are  attempting  both  Hebrew  and  French.  You 
will  overtake  your  class  in  a  very  little  time,  for  you  learn 
languages  easily.  If  you  do  not  get  some  knowledge  of 
Hebrew  now,  it  is  not  probable  you  will  ever  attain  it ;  and 
if  your  heart  should  be  devoted  to  the  profession,  which, 
though  not  highly  esteemed  by  men,  is  yet  the  most  benevo- 
lent and  honorable,  you  may  find  it  of  great  advantage  to 
you. 

'  I  am  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  pleased  with  your  chum, 
I  believe  him  to  be  a  deserving  young  fellow  ;  but  you  must 
not  have  too  sudden  or  unbounded  confidence  in  any  one. 
Form  rules  and  principles  for  yourself  that  may  be  sup- 
ported by  reason  and  revelation,  and  do  not  depart  from 
them  through  fear  of  ridicule  nor  hope  of  obtaining  favor 
from  any  one.  Keep  yourself  pure.  Treat  all  your  fellow- 
students  with  respect  and  friendship,  but  do  not  feel  as  if 
your  happiness  depended  upon  the  favor  of  any  one,  nor 
your  misery  upon  any  thing  but  the  reproaches  of  con- 
science. Always  treat  the  government  with  respect  and 
attention.  Never  imbibe  prejudices  against  any  of  them, 
nor  join  in  any  cabals  against  them.  Never  he  an  informer, 
but  be  equally  careful  not  to  be  a  supporter  or  encourager 
of  any  designs  against  the  governors  or  governed. 

'  Take  care  of  yourself,  my  dear  son,  and  be  a  good 
boy.' 

'  September  10th,  1797. 

'My  dear  Son,  —  The  receipt  of  your  letter  by  Monday's 
post  gave  us  all  pleasure,  as  it  indicated  your  greater  ease 


TO  HIS  SON  WHILE  IN  COLLEGE.  91 

and  enjoyment  in  your  present  situation.  You  are,  I  am 
sensible,  the  youngest  boy  in  your  class,  but  you  must 
remember  that  you  have  enjoyed  great  advantages,  and  that 
wisdom  is  not  measured  by  years,  but  by  the  opportunities 
we  have  had  of  acquiring  it ;  yet  the  recollection  of  your 
youth  should  make  you  modest  and  willing  to  bear  the 
repetition  of  my  advice  :  yet  I  hope  it  will  be  needless  ;  as 
you  will  form  yourself  to  careful  habits,  and  will  sometimes 
refresh  your  memory  by  perusing  the  letters  I  have  sent 
you. 

'  I  am  Sony  you  find  it  difficult  to  pursue  the  study  of 
both  Hebrew  and  French,  and  conclude  you  intend  to 
relinquish  one  of  them.  To  direct  your  determination,  let 
me  suggest  to  you  that  this  will  probably  be  the  only  time 
you  will  have  to  acquire  any  knowledge  of  Hebrew,  which 
is  of  some  importance  if  you  should  choose  one  of  the 
professions  for  life  ;  you  may  have  another  opportunity  to 
get  a  knowledge  of  French  ;  besides,  they  are  steady  lads 
who  apply  themselves  to  Hebrew,  and  I  did  wish  you  to 
associate  and  assimilate  with  such.  Take  these  things  into 
considei'ation,  my  son,  and  then  judge  which  language  to 
relinquish  if  you  relinquish  either. 

'  If  you  knew  how  much  we  feel  interested  in  you  and 
your  welfare,  you  would  never  be  at  a  loss  as  to  what  to 
write  to  us.  The  most  trifling  circumstances,  such  as  going 
to  bed,  and  getting  up  in  the  morning,  washing  hands, 
combing  hair,  and  brushing  clothes,  derive  an  importance 
from  their  relation  to  those  we  love.  You  say  little  in  your 
letters  about  your  chum.  I  hope  you  live  together  in 
harmony  and  love,  in  mutual  confidence  and  friendship,  and 
that  you  are  guardians  and  helpmeets  to  each  other  in  your 
collegiate  connection. 

'  How  do  you  succeed  in  getting  up  for  prayers  ?  If 
possible,  avoid  being  frequently  upon  the  monitor's  bill. 
Cherish  a  respect  for  the  authorities  of  college,  whatever 
you  may  hear  said  about  them  by  idle  or  dissipated  youth. 


92  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 

You  may  be  sure  they  are  men  of  respectability,  or  they 
would  never  have  been  in  the  places  they  are  ;  treat  them 
yourself  with  submission,  and  a  proper  respect,  due  as 
much  to  yourself  as  to  them.  Do  not  feel  an  unwillingness 
to  be  corrected  in  your  recitations,  nor  show  the  superficial 
coxcombry  that  is  said  to  belong  to  the  Sophomore  year. 
Do  not  be  difficult  as  to  commons.  Take  care  of  yourself, 
my  dear  boy,  and  of  every  thing  that  relates  to  you. 
'  Your  affectionate  father, 

'  J.    BUCKMINSTER.' 
'November,  1797. 

'  We  are  disappointed,  my  dear  son,  m  not  receiving  a 
line  from  you  to  let  us  know  how  you  succeeded  in  your 
return  to  Cambridge.  We  hope  well,  and  that  you  are 
again  settled  in  the  routine  of  study  and  recitation.  You 
must  not  be  grieved  nor  surprised  at  my  repeating  my 
cautions,  reiterating  my  counsels,  to  take  care  of  yourself, 
—  of  your  health,  comforts,  and  morals.  You  may,  per- 
haps, be  more  in  danger  this  term  than  the  last.  You  are 
more  accustomed  to  college  life,  and  may  have  less  timidity 
and  more  confidence  in  yourself.  Form  to  yourself  general 
rules  and  principles  of  good  behavior,  that  you  may  have 
them  to  govern  you  in  particular  cases  and  emergencies  ; 
and  be  not  betrayed  by  unforeseen  events  into  faults  or 
errors,  in  consequence  of  not  thinking.  Let  the  virtuous 
and  discreet  be  your  chosen  companions,  and  if  you  are 
constrained  to  be  with  others,  let  a  manly  dignity  and  pro- 
priety mark  your  conduct  and  be  a  silent  reproof  of  theirs. 

'  If  you  must  at  times  hear  the  authorities  of  college 
reviled  and  ridiculed,  take  no  part  in  the  ungrateful  merri- 
ment ;  or  at  least,  do  nothing  to  add  to  the  piquancy  or 
amount  of  it.  Keep  yourself  pure,  my  son,  in  these  your 
years  at  college,  and  remember  that  God  is  the  inspector 
of  your  public  and  private  conduct,  and  knows  your  most 
secret  thoughts  and  actions.     Resolve  not  upon  any  thing 


TO    niS    SON    WHILE    IN    COLLEGE.  93' 

of  consequence,  without  making  it  the  subject  at  least  of 
one  night's  sleep,  and  one  evening's  prayer.  Govern 
yourself,  my  son,  by  principles,  and  attach  yourself  to 
them  rather  than  to  men.  Approve  what  is  excellent  in 
all,  and  what  is  otherwise  in  none. 

'You  tell  us  you  spent  Thanksgiving, at  Waltham.  We 
thought  you  would,  and  are  glad  of  it.  When  gentlemen 
of  distinction  invite  you  to  their  houses,  I  hope  you  behave 
with  modesty  and  propriety,  —  that  you  are  not  forward  to 
speak  or  to  give  your  opinions  unasked.  Mr.  Lyman, 
when  he  was  here,  expressed  an  interest  in  you  and  wished 
you  to  visit  him  often.  I  am  willing  that  you  should  walk 
up  to  Waltham  some  Saturday  afternoon,  and  return  to 
Cambridge  Monday  morning.  Follow  the  maternal  advice 
of  Mrs.  L.  You  are  young,  my  dear  son,  too  young  to  be 
at  your  own  disposal,  placed  at  a  distance  from  your  natural 
guardians,  from  the  friends  that  are  most  sincerely  and 
tenderly  interested  in  your  prosperity  and  welfare  ;  you 
are  exposed  to  temptations,  and  may  be  surrounded  by 
those  that  seek  to  ensnare  rather  than  to  guard  and  guide 
you  ;  and  though  we  have  confidence  in  you,  that  we  trust 
will  never  be  disappointed,  we  cannot  but  be  jealous  over 
you  and  anxious  for  you.  Remember,  my  son,  you  are 
passing  through  a  very  critical  period  of  life.  Cherish  the 
fear  of  God,  and  commit  yourself  daily  to  his  care  and 
keeping.  Respect  yourself.  Do  nothing  in  secret  or  in 
company  that  will  make  you  ashamed  of  yourself.  Be 
governed  by  principle,  and  not  by  caprice.  Dare  to  stand 
by,  and  do,  and  say  that  which  is  right,  though  you  should 
stand  alone  ;  and  if  sinners  entice  thee,  consent  thou  not ; 
if  they  ridicule  you,  bear  their  ridicule  manfully,  covered 
in  your  conscious  integrity ;  thus  you  will  have  peace  of 
mind,  the  approbation  of  the  wise  arid  good,  protection 
from  above,  —  and  the  love  of  your  affectionate  father, 

'  J.    BUCKMINSTER.' 


94  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BTJCKMINSTER 

'  June  16th,  1798. 

'  My  DEAR  Son, I  believe  I  said  nothing  to  you 

in  my  last  letter  upon  the  subject  of  your  giving  up  mathe- 
matics. I  would  not  by  any  means  have  you  do  so.  Study 
those  and  all  other  recitations  as  well  as  you  can,  and  if 
you  cannot  distinguish  yourself,  yet  something  will  I'emain 
that  will  be  of  advantage  to  you  in  your  future  life  : 
besides,  you  must  not  imagine  that  you  cannot  distinguish 
yourself.  You  have  been  apt  to  think  so  in  all  the  new 
studies  that  you  have  undertaken,  and  the  very  thought 
has  a  tendency  to  cramp  your  exertions  and  paralyze  your 
efforts.  A  scholar  or  a  soldier  should  think  nothing  beyond 
his  reach,  till  he  has  made  the  most  vigorous  attacks.  I 
hope  you  will  not  get  into  a  discouraged  frame  of  mind 
about  your  studies,  nor  from  that,  or  any  other  cause,  grow 
negligent  about  them. 

'  I  feel  anxious  for  you,  my  son,  and  would  do  every 
thing  in  my  power  for  your  good.  If  you  should  deviate 
from  the  paths  of  virtue,  and  become  an  immoral  youth, 
you  would  hasten  my  gray  hairs,  and  bring  them  down 
with  sorrow  to  the  grave.  I  beg  you  would  cherish  the 
fear  of  God,  and  a  sense  of  your  accountableness  to  him, 
and  forget  not  to  pray  to  him  daily.  You  must  not  follow 
the  great  or  the  many  to  do  evil,  nor  take  your  estimate 
of  things  from  the  practices  of  men,  but  from  the  unerring 
rule  of  God's  word.  May  God  bless  you,  my  son,  and 
sanctify  you.  May  he  keep  you  from  the  snares  of  youth, 
and  the  lusts  that  war  against  the  soul.  Be  no  stranger  to 
your  closet,  but  with  filial  love  and  trust  commend  yourself 
to  God,  for  his  guidance  and  blessing. 

'  Your  affectionate  father, 

'J.    BUCKMINSTER.' 


From  the  foregoing  letters  it  would  appear  that  the 
father  was  not  aware  of  the  most  serious  dangers  that 
menaced  his  son  in  his  college  life,  which,  from  some 


TO    HIS    SON    MOBILE    IN    COLLEGE.  95 

disclosures  lately  made,  arose  from  the  skepticism 
then  prevailing  in  the  college,  —  from  the  unsettling 
of  the  faith  of  every  rank  in  society,  through  the 
prevalence  of  the  influences  of  the  French  Revolution. 
The  old  foundations  of  society  were  shaken,  all  rever- 
ence for  antiquity  and  for  social  order  and  religious 
faith  nearly  destroyed. 

Whoever  has  read  Judge  Story's  graphic  descrip- 
tion of  the  college,  and  of  the  student's  life  there,  in 
the  recently  published  Memoirs  of  Dr.  Channing, 
will  be  aware  of  the  influences  that  surrounded  this 
youngest  son  of  Alma  Mater.  My  brother  was  just 
four  years  younger  than  Dr.  Channing,  and  two  years 
after  him  in  college.  He  was  even  smaller  and  more 
youthful  in  his  appearance  than  his  distinguished 
relative,  and  all  the  influence  that  he  could  have 
acquired  must  have  been  purely  intellectual.  He 
entered  the  Sophomore  class,  and  was  only  one  year 
in  college  with  Channing,  and  was  probably  wholly 
unknown  to  him  except  through  the  medium  of 
Washington  Allston,  the  friend  of  both  and  the  class- 
mate of  Buckminster. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  principal  college  clubs,  — 
the  Phi  Beta,  the  Hasty  Pudding,  and  the  Adelphi, 
before  which  last  he  delivered  an  address  in  his  Senior 
year,  '  Upon  the  Benefits  of  Diversity  in  Religious 
Opinions.'  His  rank  as  a  scholar  will  be  indicated  to 
those  who  are  acquainted  with  the  principles  by  which 
college  honors  are  awarded,  by  those  that  he  received. 
At  the  November  exhibition  of  the  Junior  year,  he 
had  part  in  a  forensic  assigned  him ;  in  the  succeed- 
ing June  exhibition,  an  English  oration  ;  *  and  the 
second  part  in  rank,  but  the  first  in  interest,'  at  the 
Commencement  when  he  graduated. 


96  HIS    PASSION    FOR    SHAKSPEARE. 

It  was  in  college  that  he. acquired  a  passionate  love 
of  Shakspeare,  and  it  was  during  the  winter  of  his 
Senior  year  that  Cook  was  performing  his  principal 
characters  at  the  Boston  Theatre.  Joseph  resisted 
every  allurement  of  youthful  pleasure,  but  he  could 
not  deny  himself  that  which  was  to  him  the  highest 
intellectual  treat.  He  walked  frequently  of  an  evening 
into  Boston,  went  to  the  theatre,  and  walked  out  again 
at  midnight  over  the  scarcely  completed  road  leading 
to  West  Boston  Bridge,  often  witli  the  snow  and  mud 
far  above  his  ancles.* 

He  was  not  so  entirely  cut  off  from  all  social  influ- 
ences while  in  college  as  is  the  case  with  youths  less 
fortunate  in  friends.  From  Mrs.  Dana,  the  relative  of 
his  mother,  and  her  family,  he  received  the  kindest 
welcome  at  his  weekly  visit,  which  his  father  exacted 
from  him.  I  use  that  word  because,  to  the  diffidence 
and  bashfulness  of  boys  of  his  age,  social  visiting  is 
always  a  severe  trial.  And  to  the  kindness  and  con- 
descension of  that  excellent  family  he  was  indebted 
for  a  cordial  welcome,  that  removed  the  barriers 
between  youth  and  age,  and  made  his  intercourse 
with  them  easy  and  delightful. 

His  father  also  required  him,  once  in  each  term,  to 
call  upon  the  several  college  professors,  Pearson, 
Tappaii,  and  Webber.  These  visits,  although,  from 
obedience  to  his  father,  punctually  paid,  appear  from 
his  letters  to  have  been  regarded  with  great  repug- 
nance. 

The  son  had  now  entered  upon  his  second  year  at 
Cambridge,  and  the  letters  are  much  less  minute  in 

*  It  should  be  observed,  that  the  law  requiring  the  undergraduates 
to  abstain  from  theatrical  amusements  was  not  then  in  operation. 


LETTERS    OF    HIS    FATHER.  97 

their  advice.  He  seems  to  have  obtained  the  entire 
confidence  of  his  father.  The  only  difficuhy  was 
that  of  meeting  the  expenses  of  a  college  life.  The 
frugal  boy  is  still  obliged  to  walk  a  part  of  the  way 
to  meet  the  stage  on  his  journeys  to  and  from  Cam- 
bridge, and  every  letter  contains  advice  to  save  and 
take  care  of  his  clothes. 

1798.  '  I  send  you  inclosed  a  three-dollar  bill,  which 
I  hope,  with  what  money  you  have,  will  be  sufficient  to  pay 
all  necessary  expenses  till  you  get  home.  Your  dress  will 
do  well  enough  for  exhibition.  I  hope  you  will  command 
attention  by  something  better  at  that  time  than  your  dress. 

'  There  are  many  clubs  plausible  in  their  institution,  that 
are  prejudicial  in  their  operation  and  consequences.  I 
know  not  of  what  kind  those  are  of  which  you  are  a 
member,  but  I  know  no  club  which  ought  at  college  to  be 
very  expensive  to  the  members,  nor  can  they  be  beneficial 
if  they  are  so,  for  they  must  exclude  the  poor  scholars, 
who  are  usually  the  best.' 

'  March  18th,  1799. 

'My  dear  Son,  —  I  have  been  much  more  remiss  in 
writing  to  you  this  term  than  I  intended  or  approve  ;  it  is 
not  that  I  am  less  anxious  or  concerned  about  you  than 
I  used  to  be,  nor  that  I  love  you  less  ;  but  being  immersed 
in  various  cares  and  attentions  besides  that  of  my  ministry, 
I  can  hardly  find  time  for  writing.  I  hope  you  continue 
to  behave  well,  preserving  yourself  free  from  all  those 
practices  which  offend  God  and  wound  the  conscience  of 
the  xinliardened  sinner.  It  is  my  heart's  desire  and  prayer 
to  God  for  you  that  you  may  be  saved,  and  in  order  to  this, 
that  you  may  be  made  to  see  your  need  of  salvation,  and 
behold  Jesus  Christ  as  the  author  of  it,  committing  yourself 
into  his  hands  to  be  sanctified  in  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  by  the  Spirit  of  God.     You  are   entering  upon 


93  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMIiNSTER 

the  stage  of  life,  not  merely  in  days  of  great  license  of 
practice,  but  in  great  prevalence  of  infidelity.  To  despise 
and  reject  revelation,  not  so  much  by  attempting  to  disprove 
it  by  argument  as  to  drive  it  away  by  wit  and  ridicule,  is 
now  the  fashion,  and  you  will  meet  with  many  men  of  this 
stamp  in  your  literaiy  and  social  interviews  with  those  who 
may  be  such  fools  as  to  wish  there  were  no  God.  But 
though  you  may  not  feel  able  or  Avilling  to  oppose  their 
raillery,  I  pray  you  to  clasp  firmer  the  hope  of  sinners  in 
Jesus  Christ.  You  have  known  the  Scriptures  from  your 
youth  ;  I  hope  you  have  sometimes  felt  their  power  to  assist 
and  comfort. 

'  I  do  not  mean  to  give  you  in  letters  the  evidences  of  a 
revelation  ;  but  no  tolerable  account  can  be  given  for  the 
origin  and  existence  of  such  books  as  the  Gospels  but  their 
being  the  communication  of  Jesus  Christ  to  men,  and  a  still 
less  tolerable  one  can  be  given  of  the  present  existence  of 
the  Christian  Church  in  the  world.  Hold  fast  your  integrity 
and  your  love  of  God,  and  believe  that  they  who  honor 
him  he  will  honor,  and  they  who  despise  him  he  will  lightly 
esteem. 

'  The  name  of  your  new  little  sister  is  Olivia.  You  ask 
to  spend  next  vacation  at  Mr.  Freeman's.  If  your  clothes 
did  not  render  it  necessary  for  you  to  come  home,  I  should 
be  willing  you  should  spend  one  week  at  Judge  Dana's,  and 
one  week  at  Mr.  Freeman's  ;  but  we  shall  be  glad  to  see 
you  at  home. 

'  Your  affectionate  father.' 

'  May,  1799. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  Your  letter  and  its  contents  came  safe 
to  hand  by  Friday  night's  mail,  from  which  I  conclude  you 
got  safely  and  agreeably  to  Cambridge,  and  found  all  things 
well.  You  seem  to  be  concerned  for  my  health,  and  inquire 
anxiously  about  my  sufferings  from  the  disease  with  which 
I  was  threatened  when  you  left  home.     I  write  sooner  than 


TO    HIS    SON    WHILE    IN   COLLEGE.  99 

I  Otherwise  should,  because  I  can  tell  you  that,  after  a  week 
of  considerable  pain,  I  am  now  pretty  well,  and  have  gone 
through  the  labors  of  this  blessed  day  with  less  fatigue  than 
usual.  I  am  glad  to  see  you  anxious  for  your  friends,  and 
to  enter  with  feeling  into  their  circumstances,  and  I  hope 
you  will  cherish  and  cultivate  a  filial  and  fraternal  spirit 
more  and  more.  You  have  parents  tiiat  love  you  and  are 
deeply  concerned  for  you,  and  you  have  sisters  that  love 
you,  and  are  deserving  of  your  love  ;  and  though,  from 
Providential  circumstances,  you  have  run  farther  before 
them  in  the  race  of  knowledge  than  you  have  of  years, 
yet  you  should  cherish  an  esteem  and  affection  for  them, 
and  do  what  in  you  lies  to  make  them  feel  the  distance 
less,  and  love  the  brother  more.  It  is  good  and  pleasant 
for  brethren  and  sisters  to  dwell  together  in  unity,  and  to 
be  strangei's  to  the  passions  of  envy  or  contempt,  or  the 
emotions  that  border  on  such  passions.  An  elder  brother 
distinguished  by  advantages  should  be  a  mentor  to  the  little 
circle  of  home,  and  bear  and  cover  the  weakness  and 
infirmities  of  those  who  are  accidentally  less  informed 
than  he. 

'  I  do  not  say  these  things,  my  son,  from  an  apprehension 
of  any  especial  need  of  such  caution  in  your  case  with 
respect  to  your  dear  sisters,  much  less  to  criminate  or 
reproach,  but  they  are  thoughts  that  may  deserve  your 
consideration  and  render  you  more  useful  and  happy. 

'  I  have  suggested  that  I  was  pleased  at  your  anxiety 
for  my  health,  and  desire  to  do  every  thing  to  contribute  to 
my  relief;  but  you  must  remember  that,  however  dear  or 
necessary  I  may  be  to  my  chitdren,  I  am  mortal.  Lean 
upon  no  parent's  arm  that  must  be  confined  to  Portsmouth 
while  you  are  at  Cambridge,  or  who,  however  warm  his 
afiection  and  ardent  his  wishes,  is  weak,  erring,  and  mortal. 
Put  your  trust  in  God,  who  is  unchangeably  the  same, 
every  where  present,  and  able  to  do  exceeding  abundantly 
for  us.     The  revelation  of  his  will,  and  our  duty,  is  sup- 


100  PURITAN    IDEAS    OF    FEMALE    EDUCATION. 

ported  by  evidence  that  has  proved  satisfactory  to  some  of 
the  greatest  and  the  wisest  of  our  race,  who  were  accus- 
tomed not  to  believe  without  evidence.  Let  me  exhort  you, 
my  dear  son,  to  make  this  revelation  your  counsellor,  and 
yoy  will  find  it  a  light  to  your  feet  and  a  lamp  to  your 
path. 

'  From  some  remarks  you  made  while  you  were  at  home, 
and  the  interest  they  had  in  your  feelings,  I  feared  you 
were  in  danger  of  the  fashionable  folly  of  placing  reason 
before  revelation.  Be  on  your  guard,  my  son,  and  let 
a  thus  saitli  the  Lord,  or  a  plain  Scripture  declaration, 
silence  your  objections  and  satisfy  the  craving  of  your 
mind,  —  and 

"  Where  you  can't  unriddle,  learn  to  trust." 

'  Take  care  of  your  clothes,  your  health,  your  morals, 
your  soul ! 

'  Your  affectionate  father.' 

The  caution  to  his  son  in  his  last  letter,  not  to 
despise  the  ignorance  of  his  sisters,  would  have  been 
necessary  to  a  brother  less  considerate  and  affection- 
ate ;  for  however  devoted  Dr.  Bnckminster  was  to 
the  best  interests  of  all  his  children,  he  certainly 
cherished  the  Old  Testament  or  Hebrew  ideas  of  the 
greater  importance  of  the  culture  of  the  male  than 
the  female  intellect,  which  was  the  prevailing  senti- 
ment of  Puritan  New  England.  Every  faculty  of 
the  sons  of  clergymen  must  be  cultivated,  for  they, 
perhaps,  would  be  shining  lights  in  the  candlestick 
of  the  Church  ;  but  the  daughters,  they  were  only 
helps,  meet  for  man.  The  whole  amount  of  a 
woman's  learning  was  but  enough  to  enable  her  to 
read  and  spell  the  English  language,  and  to  keep  the 
family  accounts.     Reading  was  taught  well  to  every 


PURITAN    IDEAS    OF    FEMALE    EDUCATION.  101 

one  of  his  family  by  the  practice  of  reading  the  Bible 
morning  and  evening  at  family  prayers,  each  person, 
beginning  with  himself,  reading  two  verses  in  suc- 
cession. The  servants  were  not  exempted  from  this 
custom,  and  every  boy  and  girl  admitted  to  service  in 
the  family  learned,  at  least,  the  art  of  reading  well. 

From  the  prevailing  notions  which  preceded  and 
reached  almost  to  the  time  of  which  I  write,  the 
female  mind  of  New  England  was  left  almost  wholly 
without  culture.  The  daughters  of  clergymen  had 
some  little  chance  of  intellectual  improvement,  by 
living  more  in  the  presence  of  books,  and  having 
occasional  intercourse  with  the  learned  of  the  time  ; 
but  that  only  increased  the  embarrassing  peculiarity 
of  their  position.  A  country  minister  stands  upon 
almost  the  lowest  step  of  social  life,  in  regard  to  the 
pecuniary  means  of  intellectual  culture  ;  but  in  intel- 
lectual endowment,  cultivated  manners,  and  social 
influences,  he  must  stand  with  the  highest,  and  hold 
intercourse  with  the  most  cultivated.  His  family 
must  share  his  position,  whatever  it  is,  and  his 
daughters  must  form  tastes  for  refinement,  for  intel- 
lectual intercourse,  and  for  cultivated  society,  which 
the  total  want  of  pecuniary  means  prevents  them 
afterwards,  as  our  society  is  constituted,  from  enjoy- 
ing. And  only  in  peculiar  and  fortunate  cases  are 
they  able  to  indulge  the  tastes  they  have  too  early 
formed. 

The  wholly  secluded  education  that  Dr.  Buck- 
minster  gave  his  daughters  might  have  arisen  from 
such  considerations.  Although  he  was  active  and 
instrumental  in  establishing  better  schools  for  girls  in 
Portsmouth,  he  did  not  allow  his  daughters  to  go  to 
9» 


102  PURITAN    IDEAS    OF    FEMALE    EDUCATION. 

them,  nor  to  associate  much  with  society  of  their 
own  age.  Perhaps  some  lingering  fondness  for  the 
kind  of  education  their  mother  had  enjoyed  remained 
in  his  mind,  and  he  might  have  hoped  to  reproduce  a 
likeness  to  her  in  his  daughters.  But  the  cloistered 
retirement  of  her  children  was  not  peaceful,  like  hers. 
However  nun-like  their  seclusion,  it  was  not  for  the 
purpose  of  reading  or  praying  ;  it  was  filled  with 
domestic  duties  and  the  care  of  younger  children. 
Book-learning  was  the  last  necessity ;  they  had  far 
other  and  humbler  duties  to  learn,  and  to  perform. 
With  an  invalid  wife  and  a  small  salary,  the  moments 
for  indulging  a  studious  taste  in  his  daughters  were 
few  and  far  between,  and  for  the  most  part  stolen. 
Such  a  family  was  indeed  a  school  for  learning  the 
humble  and  passive  virtues.  Patience,  industry,  and 
carefulness  were  all  taught,  but  a  knowledge  of  the 
world  wholly  excluded.  Happy  was  it  for  him  that 
they  learned  contentment  in  their  frugal,  stoical  home, 
when,  only  a  few  years  after,  these  elder  daughters 
were  left,  by  the  death  of  his  wife,  the  guardians  of 
his  comfort,  and  the  mothers  of  his  younger  children. 
There  was  then  full  use  for  the  knowledge  that  could 
not  have  been  found  in  grammars  and  dictionaries ; 
and  the  very  small  portion  of  elementary  instruction 
they  had  received  in  the  learning  usually  taught  in 
schools  served  only  to  stimulate  their  exertions,  in 
after  life,  to  acquire  what  had  been  denied  to  their 
younger  years. 

My  brother  had  now  entered  upon  his  Senior  year, 
and  his  father  had  acquired  so  much  confidence  in 
him,  that  his  letters  had  become  much  less  frequent. 


LETTERS    WHILE    IN    COLLEGE.  103 

'July,  1799. 

'  From  what  cause  it  arises  I  cannot  say,  but  I  have  never 
been  so  concerned  about  you,  my  dear  son,  since  you  went 
from  home,  as  I  have  this  term  of  your  absence.  Scarce  a 
night  passes  but  I  am  perplexed  and  troubled  in  my  sleep 
by  some  of  the  troubles  and  difficulties  in  which  you  are 
involved.  I  hope  it  is  not  an  intimation  that  you  are 
becoming  less  careful  and  regular  in  your  conduct,  or  less 
watchful  against  the  seductions  of  the  world.  You  are 
passing  thi-ough  a  period  of  life  that  will  probably  give  the 
complexion  to  the  whole  of  your  future  life,  O  my  son, 
be  watchful  and  prudent,  preserving  an  ever-living  con- 
sciousness of  the  Divine  omniscience  and  omnipresence. 
I  hope  you  will  continue  to  deserve  the  good  opinion  of  the 
government  of  the  College,  and  pay  them  all  due  respect. 
I  know  they  are  the  friends  of  the  Alumni,  and  you  will 
one  day  think  so. 

'  You  propose  hiring  a  horse  sometim.es  to  ride,  lest  you 
should  forget  your  riding.  I  would  observe  to  you,  that  it 
is  a  kind  of  knowledge  not  easily  forgotten,  and  you  cannot 
hire  a  horse  at  Cambridge  without  considerable  expense. 
If  you  ride  out  in  company,  you  will  be  in  danger  of  meet- 
ing with  accidents.  I  do  not  forbid  your  riding,  but  I  advise 
you  to  be  sparing  of  this  amusement.  I  hope  you  will 
continue  to  be  steady,  uniform,  and  studious,  and  improve 
the  little  remaining  time  you  may  have  at  Cambridge  in 
endeavoring  to  carry  yourself  forward  in  preparation  for 
usefulness  in  your  future  life.  Be  virtuous,  wise,  and 
pure. 

'  I  fear  it  will  be  too  much  for  you  to  think  of  walking 
all  the  way  home.  If  you  will  come  to  Newbury,  and  if  I 
can  possibly  leave  home,  I  will  come  in  the  chaise  for  you  ; 
but  you  must  let  me  hear  from  you  again  before  vacation. 
I  am  Sony  you  are  not  disposed  to  write  more  particularly 
to  your  best  friend. 


104 


ANXIETY    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER 


'  We  all  send  you  a  caution  not  to  be  too  venturesome 
because  you  have  a  little  knowledge  of  horsemanship. 
'  Your  afTectionate  father, 

'J.  B.' 

The  anxiety  of  Dr.  Buckminster  during  the  whole 
of  his  son's  course  through  college  was  so  extreme, 
and  his  charges  to  the  boy  to  keep  himself  pure  from 
youthful  vices  so  often  reiterated,  that  they  may,  to 
some  minds,  imply  a  more  than  usual  distrust  of  the 
purity  and  integrity  of  his  son.  It  can  be  explained 
without  casting  a  shadow  of  suspicion  upon  the 
ingenuous  boy. 

It  may  be  recollected  that  it  was  observed,  in  the 
early  part  of  this  work,  that  Yale  College,  while 
my  father  was  there,  was  particularly  open  to  the 
charge  of  indifference  to  religious  and  moral  observ- 
ances ;  and  added  to  his  own  recollections  of  college 
life  were  fears  arising  from  the  tender  age  of  his  son, 
and  the  danger  of  his  being  influenced  by  the  example 
of  the  older  students.  It  was,  too,  the  habit  of  his 
mind,  arising  probably  from  his  religious  creed  and 
the  high  ideal  standard  he  had  formed  for  them,  to 
doubt  the  strength  of  principle  of  his  own  children. 
While  his  parental  expectations  demanded  every  thing 
from  them,  his  religious  creed  forbade  him  to  hope  for 
any  thing  but  a  natural  amiableness,  which,  in  the 
view  of  his  creed,  was  of  no  value.  The  writer  does 
not  recollect  a  single  instance  of  commendation  of 
Joseph  or  of  his  elder  children.  He  became  more 
indulgent  as  he  advanced  in  life,  and  his  younger 
motherless  children  called  forth  all  his  tenderness. 

My  brother  had  now  entered  upon  his  last  term ;  the 
time  drew  nigh  when  he  must  leave  college,  and  his 


RESPECTING    HIS    CHILDREN.  105 

father  began  to  feel  anxiety  about  his  future  course. 
He  had  just  completed  his  sixteenth  year.  He  was 
very  small  and  youthful  in  his  appearance.  Schools 
were  offered  to  him  in  various  country  places,  but  his 
youth  and  still  more  youthful  stature  —  he  looked 
scarcely  more  than  twelve — made  his  father  un- 
willing that  he  should  enter  upon  school-keeping  as 
the  head  and  sole  master.  The  place  of  usher  to  Mr. 
Hunt  in  the  Boston  Latin  School  was  proposed  to 
him,  by  friends  in  Boston,  as  an  eligible  situation. 

'  June,  1800. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  I  have  this  day  received  your  letter, 
and  am  glad  you  were  disposed  to  enter  so  fully  into  your 
feelings  and  wishes,  to  your  best  friend.  Respecting  the 
principal  subject  of  your  letter,  the  disposal  of  yourself 
after  you  leave  college,  I  scarcely  know  what  to  write  to 
■  you.  There  are  many  things  in  the  situation  you  propose 
that  would  be  doubtless  agreeable,  if  you  could  be  placed 
in  it,  and  they  would  not  be  unprofitable  nor  dangerous 
to  a  person  of  more  years  and  experience,  of  established 
principles,  confirmed  habits,  and  pious  affections ;  —  such 
as  the  diversity  of  amusements,  the  variety  of  character  and 
company,  the  floods  of  books,  the  proximity  to  Cambridge, 
etc.,  etc.  But  I  feel  a  little  anxious  lest  they  should  be 
ensnai'ing  to  you,  and  a  means  of  blighting  the  seed  which 
I  hope  is  springing  up  to  a  respectable  harvest  in  your 
future  life.  The  theatre  has  infatuating  charms  to  a  lively 
imagination  ;  the  company  of  the  dissipated,  both  male 
and  female,  is  seductive  to  those  who  have  not  closed  their 
teens.  You  have  four  years,  my  son,  before  that  period 
arrives. 

'  If  you  should  ever  know  the  heart  of  a  parent,  you  will 
know  it  cannot  cease  to  fear.  Parents  are  ready  to  say, 
"  We  have  you  in  our  hearts  to  live  and  to  die  for  you," 


106  LETTERS    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER. 

and  often  afterwards  strange  changes  take  place  in  the 
feeUngs  and  conduct  of  their  children, 

'  If  I  were  sure  you  would  have  virtue  and  firmness  to 
withstand  the  temptations  that  would  assail  you  in  Boston, 
and  prudence  and  piety  enough  to  choose  the  company  of 
the  wise,  and  wisdom  enough  to  improve  the  advantages 
you  would  find  there,  I  should  more  readily  consent  to  your 
being  there  than  any  where  else.  Ask  the  opinion  of  judi- 
cious friends.  Converse  freely  and  independently  with  Mr. 
Lyman. 

'  The  part  assigned  to  you  at  Commencement  is,  T  con- 
clude, agreeable  to  you.  If  a  subject  is  not  given  to  you, 
you  must  endeavor  to  fix  upon  one  that  will  suit  your  taste 
and  years,  and  multum  in  parvo  must  be  your  study, 

'  We  all  love  you,  —  your  father  dearly. 

'  J,    BuCKMINSTER,' 
'June  16,  1800. 

'  My  dear  Son, Mr.  Abbot  says  it  would  be  very 

agreeable  to  him  to  have  you  with  Iiim  in  the  Academy, 
if  there  should  be  an  opening  there.  I  do  not  altogether 
like  the  situation  in  the  Boston  school.  Mr.  Hunt  would 
probably  often  be  absent,  and  the  government,  as  well  as 
the  instruction,  fall  upon  the  usher.  The  salary  at  Boston 
may  sound  great,  but  the  expense  of  board  and  other 
expenses  of  living  would  leave  you  but  a  small  dividend 
at  the  end  of  the  year,  I  imagine.  You  had  better  lie  upon 
your  oars,  and  wait  for  the  opening  of  Providence,  than  to 
be  precipitate.  Behave  yourself  well,  and  you  will  find 
employment.  I  doubt  not  Providence  will  provide  kindly 
and  generously  for  you,  if  you  wait  filially  upon  the  God 
of  Providence. 

'It  is  a  little  unexpected  to  be  called  upon  for  money, 
I  fear  the  advantages  of  your  societies  will  not  pay  the 
expense  of  meeting.  The  extra  expenses  of  your  family 
exceed  mine.  I  inclose  five  dollars,  of  which,  and  all 
others,  1  hope  you  will  be  able  to  give  a  good  account. 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    LOWELL.  107 

'  Let  your  last  weeks  at  College,  my  son,  be  your  best ; 
such  as  you  can  look  back  upon  in  future  with  unmixed 
satisfaction. 

'  Your  affectionate  father.' 

My  brother's  course  through  college  had  been  marked 
with  extreme  industry,  and  the  most  careful  regard  to 
the  regulations  and  laws  of  the  place.  Of  this  it  may 
be  sufficient  to  remark,  that  he  never  incurred  any 
college  censure,  and  was  not  even  fined  till  the  last 
term  of  the  Senior  year.  He  preserved  his  themes 
and  exercises,  in  number  thirty-two.  Many  of  them 
are  humorous,  a  few  poetical ;  but  the  marked  pro- 
gress in  excellence  from  the  first  to  the  last  is  very 
striking,  showing  how  much  he  was  indebted  to 
careful  culture. 

I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  add  to  this  account  of  his 
college  life  the  testimony  of  a  valued  friend  and  class- 
mate, the  Rev.  Charles  Lowell,  one  among  the  very 
small  number  of  that  class  who  have  survived  to  the 
present  time. 

'  I  first  saw  Mr.  Buckminster  in  the  summer  of  1797, 
when  we  were  examined  together,  with  three  others,  for 
admission  to  the  Sophomore  class  of  Harvard  College.  He 
was  then  but  a  little  more  than  thirteen  years  old  ;  a  boy, 
with  a  sweet  countenance,  whose  every  lineament  was 
stamped  with  genius  and  intelligence,  —  in  age  a  boy,  but 
in  intellect  and  learning  mature  far  beyond  his  years.  I 
was  myself  but  little  older,  yet  I  well  remember  his  exami- 
nation, and,  as  well,  that  none  excelled  him.  One  incident 
that  I  have  not  forgotten,  though  it  is  nearly  half  a  century 
since,  indicated  the  keenness  of  his  sensibility,  and  the 
laudable  ambition  to  excel  which  never  left  him.  He 
had  some   hesitation    in   answering   one    of   the   questions 


108  LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    LOWELL. 

propounded  to  him,  —  I  feel  assured  it  was  but  one,  —  and 
he  burst  into  tears.  One  of  the  professors  —  it  was  Dr. 
Pearson  —  kindly  came  to  him,  reassured  him,  and  told 
him  he  had  no  cause  to  be  troubled. 

'  Thus  commencing  his  college  course,  standing  in  the 
first  rank,  he  sustained  that  rank  unwaveringly  to  the  end. 
As  a  classical  scholar  he  had  no  superior,  if,  indeed,  he  had 
a  rival.  As  a  Z»eZZes-Zc/ircs  scholar  he  was  unequalled.  "In 
rhetoric  and  composition,"  one  of  his  classmates  writes  me, 
"  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  he  had  the  best  taste  and  tact 
of  any  in  the  class,  and  which  even  existed  when  we  first 
began  our  exercises  in  English  composition ;  and  I  think 
he  had  more  uniformly  the  marks  of  approbation  from  the 
professor  than  any  other.  He  was  the  best  reader,  and,  in 
my  opinion,  the  best  declaimer,  in  the  class."  "  He  was 
decidedly,"  he  further  says,  "•  a  hard  student,  and  a  great 
general  reader.  He  was  well  read  in  histoiy  and  geogra- 
phy, and  in  the  periodical  works  of  English  literature." 

'  In  the  exact  sciences  and  metaphysics,  his  immature 
age,  or  a  want  of  taste  for  them,  prevented  his  acquiring 
the  same  distinction ;  though  another  classmate  tells  me  that 
he  recollects  the  surprise  he  felt  at  Buckminster's  recitations 
in  Euclid.  He  could  not  understand  how  one  so  young 
could  demonstrate  problems  so  diflicult.  But  the  truth  was, 
he  had  extraordinary  powers,  and  his  conscientiousness,  as 
well  as  his  ambition  and  love  of  learning,  led  him  to  task 
those  powers  to  the  utmost.  He  studied  hard ;  he  was 
faithful,  and  never,  I  am  confident,  went  into  a  recitation 
without  doing  all,  in  the  preparation,  that  he  was  able  to  do. 

'  If  he  were  equalled  or  excelled  in  mathematics  or 
metaphysics,  yet,  take  him  for  all  in  all,  I  have  no  hesita- 
tion in  saying  he  stood  preeminent,  —  the  admiration  and 
pride  of  his  classmates.  He  was  much  noticed  by  distin- 
guished scholars  in  the  upper  classes,  and  was  fond  of  their 
intercourse.  The  attentions  of  the  late  Judge  Story  to  him 
are  particularly  remembered. 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    LOWELL.  109 

'  In  his  disposition  he  was  social,  but  it  never  led  him 
into  any  excesses.  He  had  a  fine  taste  in  music,  and  "  his 
flute  and  his  song,"  as  well  as  his  conversation,  are  spoken 
of  by  a  classmate  with  much  enthusiasm,  and  must  be  well 
remembered  by  all  who  survive  him. 

'  He  had  strong  feelings  and  predilections,  it  may  be 
strong  prejudices.  He  was  frank  and  open  as  the  day, 
expressing  his  sense  of  what  he  deemed  censurable  some- 
times warmly  and  very  independently,  but  never,  I  think, 
with  harshness.  He  escaped  college  censures,  not  because 
he  courted  popularity  with  his  instructors,  or  descended  to 
what  was  mean  and  dishonorable,  but  because  he  did 
his  duty.  Consecrated  to  God  from  his  birth,  and  early 
intended  for  the  Christian  ministry,  he  was  never  forgetful, 
as  I  believe,  of  his  high  destination.  His  fidelity  and 
diligence  in  his  studies  were  not  more  remarkable  than  his 
exalted  moral  purity.' 

Another  classmate  says  :  — 

'  Buckminster  had  strong  feelings,  prejudices,  and  predi- 
lections, and  indulged  both  his  likes  and  dislikes  to  a  great 
degree  ;  but  on  the  subject  of  the  latter  he  was  prudent, 
and  seldom  gave  way  to  vituperation.  But  he  was  so 
young  in  college,  and  was  so  interesting  in  his  person,  that 
there  was  a  species  of  halo  that  surrounded  his  character, 
so  that  most  of  us  were  carried  to  a  degree  of  enthusiasm  in 
our  admiration  of  him,  and  we  were  hardly  willing  to  make 
a  candid  comparison  of  him  with  others. 

'With  respect  to  his  tastes,  I  well,  remember  that  he 
was  very  fond  of  Shakspeare  and  the  drama,  and  a  visit  to 
the  theatre  was  the  greatest  gratification  he  could  receive. 
I  do  not  think  his  argumentative  powers  were  of  the  highest 
order  ;  nor  that  he  was  fond  of  engaging  in  discussions  of 
that  nature.' 

10 


110  QUICKNESS    OF    SENSIBILITY. 

Another  gentleman,  afterwards  an  intimate  friend,* 
speaks  thus  of  his  first  appearance  at  college  :  — 

'  I  well  remember  his  first  appearance  at  an  exhibition  in 
his  Junior  year.  His  extreme  youth,  and  the  spirit  and 
talent  and  gracefulness  of  the  performance,  excited  much 
admiration. 

'  I  was  in  the  President's  study  when  he  sent  for  him  to 
announce  to  him  his  part  for  Commencement.  He  seemed 
much  surprised,  burst  into  tears,  and  said  he  should  never 
be  able  to  do  it  well.  The  good  Dr.  Willard,  with  the  most 
benign  countenance,  replied,  in  his  homely  way,  "  If  the 
government,  Buckminster,  did  not  think  you  would  do  it 
well,  and  do  credit  both  to  yourself  and  to  the  College,  they 
would  not  have  given  you  this  honorable  part." ' 

The  quick  sensibility,  which  uttered  itself  so  often 
in  his  early  youth  in  a  spontaneous  burst  of  tears, 
became,  after  he  was  able  to  conquer  its  outward 
expression,  an  extremely  attractive  feature  in  his 
character.  It  appeared  in  an  intuitive  perception  of 
the  feelings  of  others,  and  an  eager  sympathy,  which 
made  him  enter  with  zeal  into  all  objects  of  benevo- 
lent-action. But  I  think  it  may  be  said  that  he  was 
never  rash  or  precipitate.  He  united  in  a  remarkable 
degree  quickness  of  feeling  with  thoughtfuhiess  and 
deliberation  of  judgment.  He  early  adopted  his 
mother's  habit  of  not  finally  deciding  upon  any  thing 
that  deeply  affected  his  feelings,  till  after  he  had  made 
it  the  companion  of  his  pillow. 

It  indicates  the  public  sentiment  of  the  college, 
when  we  observe  that  the  exhibition  oration  upon 
Enthusiasm    is   almost   wholly  confined   to   military 

*  William  Wells,  Esq  ,  of  Cambridge. 


COMMENCEMENT    ORATION.  Ill 

enthusiasm,  deprecating  the  example  of  France,  in 
which  he  uses  this  metaphor :  — '  Like  the  lovely 
form  of  Apega,  a  single  emhrace  of  France  discloses 
the  dagger  in  her  breast.'  The  subject  of  the  Com- 
mencement oration,  '  The  Literary  Character  of  Differ- 
ent Nations,'  was  too  comprehensive  for  the  limited 
portion  of  time  necessarily  allowed  to  one  of  many 
speakers.  There  are  a  (ew  still  alive  who  remember 
the  impression  he  then  made  on  the  audience  'by 
his  small,  youthful  figure,  contrasted  with  the  maturity 
and  extent  of  his  knowledge,  the  correctness  as  well 
as  brilliancy  of  his  imagination,  and  the  propriety  and 
grace  of  his  elocution.'  A  short  extract  may  be  par- 
doned from  this  production  of  a  boy  of  sixteen,  as  the 
literature  of  Germany  was  hardly  then  beginning  to 
be  known  in  this  country. 

'  The  literature  of  Germany  is  remarkable  for  its  uni- 
versality. Exquisite  poetic  fictions,  abstruse  metaphysical 
disquisitions,  mathematical  subtilties,  and  all  the  graces  of 
fine  writing,  flourish  with  exuberance  amid  the  aristocracy 
of  the  German  Empire.  A  host  of  illustrious  names 
contend  for  the  palm  of  excellence.  Before  the  present 
century  [the  eighteenth]  German  literature  was  confined  to 
theological  wrangling,  or  to  compilations  from  the  works 
of  others ;  the  wheels  of  literature  moved  heavily,  but 
of  late  years  they  have  rolled  with  such  boldness  and 
rapidity,  that  some  Phaeton  must  have  seized  the  reins. 

'  Italy !  There  are  the  graves  of  great  men  !  Yes, 
where  once  the  warm  language  of  freedom  breathed  from 
the  lips  of  the  Gracchi,  the  poor  Catholic  now  mumbles  his 
Aves  and  Pater-Nosters.  In  that  forum  whose  benches 
once  were  filled  with  venerable  judges,  whose  walls  once 
echoed  the  voice  of  Cicero,  the  owl  now  sits  in  judgment, 
and  listens  to  the   eloquence  of  the   wind.     The   race  of 


112  COMMENCEMENT    ORATION. 

Italian  litterafi  is  nearly  extinct.  Like  the  mammoth  of 
Indian  tradition,  they  have  traversed  the  Po,  the  Arno ;  they 
have  spread  their  mighty  power  over  other  countries,  but  in 
Italy  their  bones  only  are  to  be  found  at  this  day.' 

As  he  repeated  these  passages,  his  animated  and 
beautiful  countenance  varied  with  every  change  of 
topic,  Avhich  gave  to  it  an  eloquence  it  is  impossible 
to  forget ;  and  when  he  ceased,  the  applause  came 
not  alone  from  generous  youths,  but  from  grave  and 
gray -headed  men. 

It  may  seem  almost  impertinent  to  the  reader  to 
dwell  thus  upon  the  production  of  a  youth  of  sixteen. 
We  will  close  the  account  of  his  college  life  in  the 
beautiful  language  of  another  :  *  —  'Amidst  the  temp- 
tations of  the  place,  he  gave  an  example  of  the  possible 
connection  of  the  most  splendid  genius  with  the  most 
regular  and  persevering  industry  ;  of  a  generous  inde- 
pendence of  character,  with  a  perfect  respect  for  the 
governors  of  the  College  ;  of  a  keen  relish  for  every 
innocent  enjoyment,  with  a  fixed  dread  of  every 
shadow  of  vice.  It  may  be  said  of  him,  as  has  been 
remarked  of  a  kindred  genius,  f  '  that  he  did  not  need 
the  smart  of  guilt  to  make  him  virtuous,  nor  the 
regret  of  folly  to  make  him  wise.' 

*  Thatcher's  Memoir.  f  Pres.  Kirkland,  of  Fisher  Ames. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

JOSEPH    S.    BOrCKMINSTEE. ASSISTANT    IN    EXETER   ACADEMY. 

THKOLOGICAL      STUDIES. METHOD      OF      STUDY. LET- 
TERS. 

1800.  No  arrangement  could  have  been  more  agree- 
Aged  16.  able  both  to  father  and  son  than  that  by  which 
Joseph  was  appointed  Assistant  in  Exeter  Academy. 
It  was  returning  to  his  second  home,  almost  again 
within  sound  of  the  parental  voice,  and  to  the  family 
of  Dr.  Abbot,  where  there  were  friends  who  had  cher- 
ished his  tender  boyhood,  when,  at  eleven  years  old, 
he  entered  the  Academy  as  a  pupil,  and  who  were 
now  ready  to  encourage  and  strengthen  and  fortify 
his  youth.  He  always  looked  back  upon  this  period 
of  his  life  as  full  of  profitable  instruction,  rich  in 
friendships,  and  filled  with  religious  as  well  as  literary 
associations.  It  was  now,  if  at  any  one  period  more 
marked  than  another,  that  deep  religious  impressions 
were  made  upon  his  mind.  He  proposed  to  join  his 
father's  church,  and  was  accepted,  without  any  doubts 
of  his  father  as  to  the  sincerity  or  fitness  of  his  pro- 
fession. 

'  My  DEAR  Son,  —  I  proposed  your  desire  to  join  the 
Church  the  last  Lord's  day,  and  if  you  continue  to  wish  to 
give  in  your  name  as  a  follower  of  Christ,  and  explicitly 
to  confess  him  before  men,  the  season  for  attending  to  the 
solemn  transaction  will  be  the  Sabbath  after  next.  The 
transaction  you  have  in  view,  my  dear  son,  is  a  solemn  and 
10* 


114  RELIGIOUS    PROFESSION. 

interesting  one,  but  it  is  a  clearly  incumbent  duty,  and 
therefore  its  solemnity  ought  not  to  discourage  us  from  it, 
but  only  excite  the  most  solicitous  concern  to  perform  it 
understandingly,  sincerely,  and  with  all  our  hearts.  Give 
yourself  up  unreservedly  to  God  through  Christ,  not  only 
to  be  saved  by  him,  but  to  be  ruled  by  him  and  to  be  his 
subject  and  servant  for  ever  ;  relying  upon  the  power  of 
his  grace  and  the  promised  influences  of  his  spirit  to  perfect 
his  whole  work  in  your  heart.  Count  the  cost,  consider 
the  price,  and  be  strong  in  the  Lord,  and  in  the  power  of 
his  might.  If  he  keep  you,  you  will  stand,  —  your  own 
strength  is  weakness.  Pray  much,  pray  often,  my  son,  and 
God  be  with  you. 

'  Your  little  brother  was  baptized  last  Sabbath,  to  whom 
we  gave  the  name  of  William.  It  was  a  solemn  and  a 
joyful  Sabbath.'  * 

This  is  the  only  letter  of  the  father's  that  remains 
during  the  period  in  which  the  son  was  Assistant  at 
the  Academy.  My  brother's  proximity  to  Portsmouth, 
and  very  frequent  visits  to  his  family,  enabled  his 
father  to  remit  that  constant  watchfulness  of  parental 
oversight.  He  had  learned  also  to  trust  and  confide. 
Confidence  must  be  earned  and  won,  even  in  the 
relation  between  father  and  son ;  and  the  son  had 
now  won,  by  his  lovely  and  obedient  life,  the  full 
and  perfect  confidence  of  the  anxious  and  perhaps  too 
exacting  father. 

Of  many  prayers  preserved  among  the  papers  of  the 
son,  the  following  appears  to  have  been  written  about 
this  time. 

'  O  God  !  pardon  my  foolish  fears  and  my  unreasonable 
desires.     I  have  vainly  regretted  that  which  was  not  worthy 

*  William  died  at  the  age  of  ten  months. 


SELF-CONSECRATION.  115 

of  remembrance,  I  have  feared  other  evils  than  that  moral 
evil  which  can  alone  injure  an  immortal  soul.  The  external 
circumstances  of  my  life  I  leave  submissively  at  thy  dis- 
posal, for  thou  knowest  what  is  best  for  me,  but  I  beseech 
thee  earnestly  for  that  wisdom  which  cometh  from  above. 
O  God  !  thou  hast  looked  upon  me  from  the  throne  of  thy 
compassion,  and  the  time  was  indeed  a  time  of  love.  If 
the  events  of  my  life  should  be  disastrous,  if  my  existence 
should  become  every  day  less  worthy  of  possession,  if  all 
the  blessings  that  hold  me  to  it  should  loosen  and  drop 
away,  still  the  gift  of  Jesus,  the  hope  of  pardon  and 
perfection,  the  least  glimpse  of  immortality  and  of  living 
in  thy  favor,  would  be  themes  of  thankfulness  which  could 
never  be  exhausted.  O  God !  should  I  live,  may  I  live 
to  thee ;  may  I  cherish  every  moment  that  passes,  and 
consecrate  it  to  thy  honor  and  the  service  of  my  fellow- 
men.  Assist  me,  unworthy  as  I  am,  in  the  performance  of 
my  daily  duty.  Strengthen  my  weakness  ;  enlighten  my 
understanding  ;  direct  my  inquiries  and  awaken  more  and 
more  my  zeal  in  the  search  of  truth.  May  the  fear  of 
man,  of  the  honored  and  beloved,  fade  away  before  the 
love  and  search  after  truth,  —  thy  truth,  which  is  the  most 
precious  thing,  the  inestimable  jewel,  before  which  all  other 
things  grow  dim  and  perish.' 

The  personal  recollections  of  the  writer  may  now 
take  the  place  of  record  and  tradition.  She  was  now 
old  enough  to  be  able  to  appreciate  what  she  saw  in 
her  brother,  and  to  recollect  with  distinctness  the  im- 
pression which  his  youthful  person  and  his  intellectual 
manliness  made  upon  the  circle  of  his  friends.  When 
the  blessed  day  came  round  that  brought  him  to  the 
parental  roof,  there  was  seen  a  peculiar  exhilaration, 
from  the  wrinkled  visage  of  the  old  nurse,  who  caught 
him  to  her  aged  arms,  to  the  smoothed  brow  of  his 


116  HOME    VISITS 

father,  to  whom  the  presence  of  his  son  always 
brought  the  halcyon  of  peace.  He  never  praised  or 
flattered,  or  showed  any  undue  partiality,  but  the 
mere  presence  of  his  son  shed  a  tranquil  satisfaction 
through  the  whole  family ;  and  yet  it  was  nothing 
that  he  said  or  did  that  diff'used  this  spirit  of  content 
around.  It  is  related  of  Silvio  Pellico,  that,  when  he 
merely  walked  through  the  wards  of  his  prison,  his 
presence  was  felt,  by  the  instantaneous  change  in  the 
aspect  of  the  prisonres.  The  ferocious  became  human, 
the  violent  gentle,  the  melancholy  smiled ;  such  was 
the  power  of  a  beautiful  nature.  In  my  brother  it  was 
the  perfect  freedom  and  fidelity  of  his  manners  to  his 
feelings ;  the  transparency  of  thought,  word,  and 
deed ;  we  felt  in  the  presence  of  a  true  being ;  he 
seemed  surrounded  with  that  pure  living  ether,  in 
which  painters  enshrine  their  Madonnas  and  Saints. 
There  was  such  a  peaceful  unison  in  the  beaming 
sweetness  of  his  countenance  and  the  unpretending 
gentleness  of  his  demeanor,  he  seemed  indeed  an 
angel  in  disguise,  come  to  diffuse  a  heavenly  fra- 
grance over  the  homely  and  common  cares  of  our 
every-day  life  ;  and  if  there  was  no  pause  in  domestic 
duties  there  was  a  holiday  in  every  heart. 

The  reverence  that  he  had  for  his  father  was  not 
mingled  with  reserve  and  fear,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case 
in  families  educated  under  the  severe  Puritan  rule  ; 
there  was  something  so  genial,  so  joyous,  in  the 
son,  that  the  veil  fell  from  the  father's  mind  in  his 
presence,  and  they  met  as  equal  and  confidential 
friends. 

A  young  person  who  was  much  in  the  family  at 
this  time,  surprised  at  the  ease  with  which  he  laid 


FILIAL    AND    FRATERNAL    RELATIONS.  117 

aside  the  Puritan  reserve  of  children  towards  their 
parents,  exclaimed,  on  one  occasion,  '  Why,  Joseph 
says  any  thing  to  his  father.'  And  on  the  principle 
of  saying  any  thing,  when  his  father  informed  him  of 
his  intention  of  marrying  for  the  third  time,  he  an- 
swered, 'Why,  papa,'  for  he  always  preserved  this 
childlike  appellation,  '  I  believe  you  interpret  the 
Apostle's  injunction,  to  be  the  husband  of  one  wife, 
as  a  command  never  to  be  without  a  wife.'  His  father 
smiled,  and  said  he  thought  it  a  good  interpretation. 

The  distance  in  years,  as  well  as  in  intellectual 
progress,  between  him  and  his  younger  sisters  was  too 
great  for  them  to  feel  that  familiar  confidence  with 
him  that  he  so  much  desired.  They  looked  up  to 
him  as  to  a  superior  being,  while  he  made  every 
effort  to  remove  their  timidity  and  to  increase  their 
confidence  in  his  friendship  and  tenderness.  Every 
thing  that  he  left  in  his  humble  home  when  he  went 
to  Exeter  was  cherished  with  miserly  care, — the 
simple  drawings  and  prints  that  he  pasted  on  the  wall 
of  his  bedroom,  the  chest  where  he  kept  his  boyish 
tools ;  and  even  a  small  twig  that  he  stuck  into  the 
soil,  in  a  very  inconvenient  spot,  was  never  allowed 
to  be  pulled  up,  and  a  large  tree,  only  a  few  years 
ago,  attested  the  careful  affection  with  which  'Jo- 
seph's tree '  had  been  regarded. 

These  months  spent  in  the  instruction  of  youth  at 
the  Academy  he  always  regarded  as  of  peculiar  value, 
as  leading  him  to  review  and  fix  in  his  mind  his  own 
early  classical  studies,  and  as  giving  him  that  accu- 
racy and  readiness  in  elementary  principles  in  which 
the  preparatory  schools  of  the  country  were  at  that 


118  THE    INSTRUCTOR    OF    DANIEL    WEBSTER, 

time  chiefly  deficient.  He  often  repeated,  that  he 
considered  it  a  singular  advantage  to  a  young  man  to 
be  able  to  fix  that  which  he  had  himself  just  learned 
more  firmly  in  his  memory  by  teaching  it  to  another ; 
thus  deepening  the  first  footprints  of  learning,  before 
they  were  effaced  by  the  successive  tracks  of  other 
sciences. 

His  extremely  youthful  appearance  while  a  teacher 
must  have  presented  a  strong  contrast  to  the  young 
men,  far  older  in  face  and  limb,  as  they  were  in  years, 
than  their  instructor ;  and  this  gave  him  at  first  an 
embarrassment  that  appeared  in  real  difiidence,  and 
enhanced  the  youthfulness  of  his  aspect.  He  was 
almost  discouraged,  as  appears  from  one  of  his  letters; 
but  he  had  already  learned  never  to  shrink  from  any 
duty  that  he  had  deliberately  undertaken. 

At  one  time  he  had  the  honor  and  privilege  of  being 
the  instructor  of  Daniel  Webster.*  Mr.  Webster,  in 
a  private  memoir  of  his  early  life,  says,  —  'My  first 
lessons  in  Latin  were  recited  to  Joseph  Stevens  Buck- 
minster,  at  that  time  a  pupil  in  the  Academy.  I  made 
tolerable  progress  in  all  the  branches  I  attended  to 
under  his  instruction,  but  there  was  one  thing  I  could 
not  do,  —  I  could  not  make  a  declamation,  I  could  not 
speak  before  the  school.  The  kind  and  excellent 
Buckminster  especially  sought  to  persuade  me  to  per- 
form the  exercise  of  declamation  like  the  other  boys, 
but  I  could  not  do  it.  Many  a  piece  did  I  commit  to 
memory  and  rehearse  in  my  own  room,  over  and  over 

*  The  time  when  my  brother  was  the  instructor  of  Mr.  Webster, 
was  in  1796,  while  he  was  yet  a  pupil  in  Exeter  Academy.  He  was 
so  far  advanced  in  his  studies,  that  '  the  first  lessons  in  Latin '  of  Mr. 
Webster  were  recited  to  him.  —  e.  b.  l. 


THE    INSTRUCTOR    OF    DANIEL    WEBSTER.  119 

again ;  but  when  the  day  came,  when  the  school  col- 
lected, when  my  name  was  called,  and  I  saw  all  eyes 
turned  upon  my  seat,  I  could  not  raise  myself  from 
it.  Sometimes  the  masters  frowned,  sometimes  they 
smiled.  Mr.  Buckminster  always  pressed  and  en- 
treated, with  the  most  winning  kindness,  that  I  would 
only  venture  once ;  but  I  could  not  command  sufficient 
resolution,  and  when  the  occasion  was  over  I  went 
home  and  wept  bitter  tears  of  mortification.' 

What  interesting  thoughts  does  this  description 
excite,  with  all  the  gathered  associations  of  so  many 
years !  The  youthful  teacher  winning  the  future 
statesman  to  exert  that  unsuspected  power  which  has 
since  had  such  wide-spread  and  powerful  influence. 
Did  he  discern  that  noble  intellect,  that  exalted 
genius,  then  concealed  in  the  bashful  reserve  of  his 
pupil?  The  sensibility  that  made  Webster  shrink 
from  display  would  have  indicated  to  a  penetrating 
eye  the  hidden  power ;  and  the  persevering  kindness 
with  which  the  instructor  urged  again  and  again  that 
he  would  only  venture  once,  proves  that  he  was  con- 
scious there  was  much  concealed  that  only  needed 
encouragement  to  bring  out  and  make  him  know  his 
latent  power.  Mr.  Webster  was  older  than  Buck- 
minster. Had  the  teacher  been  permitted  to  live  to 
observe  the  splendid  career  of  the  pupil,  with  what 
pride  would  he  have  looked  back  to  the  moment 
when  his  youthful  voice  soothed  and  encouraged  the 
diffidence  of  one  afterwards  so  eminent. 

As  soon  as  Joseph  was  established  in  the  Academy, 
he  began  the  preparatory  studies  for  the  profession 
which  seems  from  his  earliest  consciousness  to  have 


120  METHOD    OF    STUDIT. 

been  his  free,  unbiased  choice.  The  author  of  the 
beautiful  memoir  of  him  aheady  quoted  says: — 'The 
process  of  study  and  of  thought  through  which  he 
passed  in  forming  his  theological  opinions  cannot  be 
too  much  praised.  It  is  strange  that  a  principle  so 
natural  and  so  constantly  observed  in  all  the  other 
sciences,  that  of  beginning  with  what  is  simple  and 
clear,  and  gradually  proceeding  to  that  which  is 
doubtful  and  dark,  should  have  been  so  often  reversed 
in  the  study  of  theology.  He  avoided  as  much  as 
possible  all  the  controverted  doctrines  of  divinity,  till 
he  had  given  himself  a  thorough  initiation  into  the 
evidences  of  religion,  natural  and  revealed;  examined 
the  nature  and  degree  of  the  inspiration  of  the  sacred 
writings,  in  order  to  determine  what  laws  of  inter- 
pretation are  to  be  applied  to  them ;  taken  a  general 
survey  of  the  questions  connected  with  the  criticism 
of  the  Bible  ;  and  sanctified  all  his  investigations  by 
the  habitual  study  of  the  spirit  of  practical  religion. 
Having  by  these  inquiries,  together  with  an  accurate 
knowledge  of  the  original  languages,  prepared  himself 
for  the  interpretation  of  the  more  difficult  and  obscure 
parts  of  Scripture,  he  commenced  the  study  of  them 
with  the  aid  derived  from  a  comparison  of  the  opin- 
ions of  the  best  commentators,  of  different  sects  and 
opinions.  He  now  permitted  himself  to  consult  the 
writers  on  dogmatic  theology,  and  he  has  often  told 
me  with  what  eager  curiosity,  with  what  trembling 
interest,  he  read  Taylor  and  Edwards  on  original  sin, 
and  pushed  his  researches  into  those  higher  specula- 
tions, where  so  much  caution  is  necessary  to  prevent 
the  mind  from  becoming  enslaved  to  a  peculiar  sys- 
tem, and  shut  for  ever  against  the  light  of  truth.' 


METHOD    OF    STUDY.  IH 

There  is  a  note  among  his  manuscripts  describing 
the  manner  in  which  he  studied  the  Scriptures,  which 
may  be  worth  repeating.  He  began  by  the  prelimi- 
nary questions  relating  to^ connection  with  other  pas- 
sages ;  the  time  and  place  and  cause  of  the  passage, 
and  the  circumstances  of  the  people  and  nation.  Then 
he  compared  the  various  readings  and  settled  the  mean- 
ing of  the  words  as  well  as  he  was  able,  by  accurate 
translation,  division  and  punctuation.  Then  by  phi- 
lological notes,  concise  and  explanatory,  and  by  com- 
paring commentators,  he  endeavored  to  educe  the 
best  meaning  and  the  true  doctrine.  Lastly,  he  added 
practical  and  moral  conclusions. 

The  above  is  quoted  as  giving  a  comprehensive 
view  of  his  method  of  study  through  the  whole  of 
his  short  life.  At  Exeter  he  was  but  just  beginning. 
He  had  laid  out  a  most  extensive  plan,  which  it 
would  have  taken  a  much  longer  life  to  complete. 
He  thought  himself  but  a  beginner  upon  the  outer 
threshold  of  kuowledge,  and  the  wide  horizon  con- 
stantly opening  before  him  and  constantly  enlarging 
in  advance  of  his  eager  footsteps.  He  began  every 
study  with  a  most  devout  and  humble  spirit ;  and,  of 
a  very  large  number  of  prayers  preserved  among  his 
papers,  many  have  reference  to  and  were  written  at 
the  commencement  of  particular  studies.  Of  the 
result  of  his  conscientious  application  of  his  powers 
his  sermons  are  now  the  only  memorial,  and  it  will  be 
seen,  as  we  go  on  with  this  memoir,  what  advance  he 
made  even  in  the  short  path  he  was  permitted  to  travel. 

But  his  professional  studies,  although  holding  a  high 
place  in  his  esteem,  were  not  allowed  to  encroach 
upon  the  time  which  it  was  his  duty  to  devote  to  the 
11 


122  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Academy.  He  felt  a  warm  interest  in  its  reputation, 
and  entered  into  a  correspondence  with  gentlemen 
who  were  acquainted  with  the  English  schools  of  the 
highest  rank.  In  a  letter  ^o  the  late  John  Pickering, 
written  at  this  time,  he  says,  —  'The  institution  es- 
tablished here  has,  of  late  years,  from  its  ample 
endowments  and  from  other  causes,  such  a  degree 
of  credit  and  respectability  that  the  trustees  and 
instructors  find  it  in  their  power  to  take  the  lead 
of  other  academies  in  the  country,  and  to  establish 
for  themselves  any  course  of  study  and  system  of 
instruction  which  they  please.'  He  received  an  an- 
swer from  Mr.  Pickering,  and  from  Mr.  King,  then 
our  ambassador,  who  had  two  sons  at  Harrow  school, 
an  ample  account  of  the  course  of  studies  at  both 
Harrow  and  Eton  schools.  This  was  not  a  duty 
required  of  him,  but  it  shows  the  generous  ardor 
with  which  he  promoted  the  welfare  of  every  worthy 
object. 

That  he  was  at  this  time  a  diligent  student  appears 
from  a  journal,  in  which  the  books  he  read  are  re- 
corded, with  remarks  upon  them.  Unfortunately,  a 
great  part  of  this  journal  is  kept  in  a  short-hand  char- 
acter. There  is  a  record  of  nearly  three  months  in 
the  journal,  written  out  in  plain  English.* 

*  From  November  1,  1800,  to  January  20,  1801 :  — "Priestley's 
Harmony  of  the  Gospels,  Parts  1st  and  2d.  Cave's  Primitive  Chris- 
tianity. Whiston's  Josephus,  4  vols.  Studies  in  Hebrew.  Made 
extracts  from  Priestley  and  Josephus.  Jew's  Letter  to  Voltaire. 
Grotius  de  Veritate.  Priestley's  Corruptions  of  Christianity  ;  twice. 
Do.  Plain  Account  of  Lord's  Supper ;  also,  Kippis's  Sermon  on  the 
same  subject.  Made  an  abstract  of  Bythner's  Institutiones  Chal- 
daicse.  Read  Dean  and  Otis  on  Prosody.  Read  the  Pursuits  of  Lit- 
erature.    Read  Latin,  and  about  six  pages  of  extracts  from  Zeno- 


CORRESPONDENCE.  123 

A  letter  of  this  period  written  to  Mr.  Frank  Wil- 
liams affords  the  first  intimation  of  his  religious  views 
and  preferences. 

'  Sept.  1801. 

'  My  dear  Friend,  —  If  you  had  searched  the  recesses  of 
my  heart,  you  could  not  have  selected  topics  of  correspond- 
ence more  dear  than  those  which  filled  your  last  letter. 
The  Chapel  service  was  ever  anticipated  by  me  as  one  of 
the  richest  sources  of  improvement  which  Boston,  so  fertile 
in  such  sources,  could  afford.  The  sublime  simplicity  of 
the  Liturgy ;  the  accuracy,  elegance,  and  at  the  same  time 
the  solemnity,  of  the  style  in  which  it  is  composed,  seem  at 
once  to  reconcile  us  to  the  ceremony  of  its  forms  and  its 
repetitions,  and  exalt  the  soul  irresistibly  to  feelings  of 
devotion.  Add  to  this  the  deep  and  full  tones  of  the  organ, 
not  when  sounding  the  wild  fugue  of  an  executioner,  but 
swelling  the  notes  of  celestial  praise  ;  and  where  is  the 
soul  so  narrow,  so  sordid,  that  it  perceives  not  an  expansion, 
an  enlargement  towards  more  exalted  worlds }  The  soul  is 
borne  along  without  effort,  on  the  full  tide  of  song,  as  if 
itself  were  dissolving  into  music,  or,  to  give  you  a  better 
idea  of  an  indescribable  sensation,  we  feel  that  we  almost 
wish  to  die,  to  dissolve  into  sound. 

'  But  how  shall  I  express  to  you  my  regard  for  the  man 
who  fills  the  desk  ?  —  in  private  life  so  charitable,  so 
benevolent,  so  catholic  ;  so  full  of  the  finer  feelings  of 
the  soul ;  richly  adorned  with  knowledge  ;  full  of  the  most 
rational  candor,  with  an  excellent  taste,  and,  united  to  all 
this,  a  judgment  entirely  independent;  not  parsimonious 
of    reproof,   but   gentle   as    a    parent   in   the    application. 

phon's  Cyropaedia  in  Dalzel's  Col.  Gr.  Maj.  I  was  confined  by  illness 
one  fortnight,  during  which  time  I  read  nothing  but  the  history  of 
Sir  Charles  Grandison.  Brought  from  home  Beza.  Leighton's  Crit. 
Sacr.  Butler's  Analogy.  Newton  on  the  Proph.  Locke's  Paraphrase. 
I  desire  to  be  thankful  that  I  have  been  able  to  do  so  much." 


124  CORKESPONDENCE. 

Devoted  to  the  young,  like  Socrates,  he  has  often  had  an 
Alcibiades.  You  acknowledge  his  remai'kable  pulpit  gifts, 
the  perspicuity  of  his  discourses,  the  solidity  of  his  reason- 
ing, the  ingenuity  with  which  his  sentiments  are  defended, 
the  general  weight  of  the  instruction  that  his  sermons 
contain.  Eternal  happiness  attend  him,  "  my  guide,  phi- 
losopher, and  friend !  " 

'  But,  my  dear  F.,  I  have  ever  found,  where  there  is  so 
great  a  disparity  of  age  as  between  Mr.  Freeman  and 
myself,  though  there  may  be  profound  respect  and  a 
chastened  familiarity,  there  is  still  wanting  that  full  con- 
geniality and  unrestrained  mutual  effusion  of  sentiment  that 
exist  between  those  of  more  equal  ages. 

'  I  confess  to  you  I  was  very  much  pleased  with  some 
passages  of  your  letter,  which  I  was  not  prepared  to  expect 
from  your  connections  and  habits  of  life.  To  obtrude  a 
pious  sentiment  or  a  religious  impression,  when  we  know  it 
will  be  made  the  sport  of  ridicule  and  insult,  is  not  a  merit 
or  a  duty,  but  only  an  impertinence.  Who  would  introduce 
an  Apostle  to  the  gaming-table  ?  But  to  bear  witness  to 
our  Creator  when  circumstances  demand,  and  to  avow  our 
belief  when  it  is  attacked,  or  when  occasion  justifies,  is  no 
less  the  honor  than  the  duty  of  a  young  man.  I  have 
often  found  that  the  exclusive  society  of  men  of  this  loorld 
leaves  me  little  disposition  to  cherish  the  few  sparks  of 
piety  which  have  been  kindled  in  my  breast.  In  the  midst 
of  such  society  our  religious  honor,  if  I  may  so  speak, 
grows  dull ;  a  sarcasm  against  Christianity  hardly  wounds 
us,  our  testimony  to  the  truth  becomes  more  feeble.  This, 
I  say,  I  have  witnessed  within  myself,  and  forgive  me  if  I 
was  thus  more  easily  induced  to  believe  it  of  others.' 

To  his  residence  in  Exeter,  at  this  time,  my  brother 
was  indebted  for  many  valuable  and  long-enduring 
friendships.  That  of  the  venerable  Principal  of  the 
Academy  and  his  family,  were  among  the  most  pre- 


LETTER    OF    MRS.    ABBOT.  125 

cious  acquisitions  of  his  life.     After  the  lapse  of  nearly 
fifty  years,  Mrs.  Abbot  writes  of  him  thus :  — 

'  The  relation  in  which  he  stood  to  us  while  Assistant  at 
the  Academy  was  that  of  a  most  cherished  and  tenderly 
beloved  friend  ;  and  although  not  a  member  of  my  family, 
yet  no  one  was  ever  welcomed  with  more  heartfelt  joy 
around  the  domestic  altar  than  this  favored  son  of  promise. 
His  very  presence  brought  ^with  it  a  gentle  and  joyous 
exhilaration.  After  the  lapse  of  almost  half  a  century,  and 
with  the  mental  infirmities  of  age  pressing  upon  me,  I  find 
it  difficult  to  recall  in  detail  the  many  anecdotes  which, 
perhaps,  an  earlier  period  would  have  enabled  me  to  retain ; 
but  the  time-hallowed  impression  of  his  social  and  intel- 
lectual resources  can  never  be  forgotten.' 

He  was  indeed,  as  his  venerable  friend  expresses, 
'  the  son  of  promise  and  tlie  son  of  hope.'  He  had 
just  completed  his  eighteenth  year.  He  had  been 
borne  along  from  year  to  year  upon  his  father's  hopes 
and  prayers ;  he  had  passed  through  all  preceding 
trials,  and,  although  so  young,  his  character  for  all 
purposes  of  excellence  was  fixed  and  decided.  He 
had  entered  upon  that  course  of  never-ending  pro- 
gress, in  virtue  and  knowledge,  from  which  there 
was  now  no  danger  of  his  turning  aside  ;  he  had 
begun  the  race  upon  that  path  whose  light  shineth 
brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect  day ;  dawning 
honors  began  to  blush  around  him ;  loving  friends 
stood  ready  to  witness  his  progress;  his  father  relaxed 
his  anxious  brow,  and  began  to  thank  God  for  this 
'  son  of  promise ; '  when  suddenly,  as  by  an  arrow 
from  the  cloudless  sky,  he  was  struck  down  by  the 
11* 


126  FIRST   ATTACK   OF   ILLNESS. 

fatal  malady  that   followed   him   afterwards,  almost 
unrelentingly,  to  the  close  of  his  short  life.* 

His  illness  excited  universal  sympathy  in  the 
Academy,  and  the  writer  well  remembers  the  conster- 
nation which  spread  in  the  little  circle  of  home,  when 
the  news  of  this  distressing  event  struck  upon  the 
hearts  of  parents  and  sisters.  While  some  anxious 
friends  looked  upon  this  visitation  as  the  wreck  of 
all  their  hopes,  and  others  urged  the  immediate  relin- 
quishment of  all  mental  effort,  and  a  total  change 
from  a  studious  to  an  active  life,  —  while  his  father 
bowed  submissively,  but  with  stricken  heart,  to  the 
'sovereign  will  of  God,'  —  the  son  was  calm  and  un- 
dismayed. From  a  passage  in  his  journal,  we  learn 
that  he  endeavored  to  discern  the  designs  of  Provi- 
dence in  this  dispensation,  —  to  look  upon  it  as  a 
check  to  all  worldly  ambition,  and,  whatever  his  future 
success,  as  a  perpetual  lesson  of  humility.  It  was 
not  from  ignorance,  nor  from  insensibility  to  the 
appalling  nature  of  the  malady,  or  the  tremendous 
consequences  to  which  it  might  lead,  that  he  received 
the  stroke  thus  calmly.  How  little  they  knew  him, 
who  imagined  it  was  from  ignorance,  or  from  any 
thing  but  the  humblest  acquiescence  in  the  will  of 
God,  the  following  extract  from  his  journal  shows. 

'  Another  fit  of  epilepsy.     I  pray  God   that   I  may  be 

prepared,  not  so  much  for  death  as  for  the  loss  of  health, 

and   perhaps  of  mental  faculties.     The  repetition  of  these 

fits  must  at   length   reduce  me  to  idiotcy !     Can   I   resign 

myself  to   the    loss  of  memory,  and   of  that  knowledge   I 

may  have  vainly  prided  myself  upon  ?     O  my  God !  enable 

• 

*  His  first  attack  was  in  the  Academy,  in  the  autumn  of  1802. 


LETTERS    TO    A    CLASSMATE.  127 

me  to  bear  this  thought,  and  make  it  familiar  to  my  mind, 
that,  by  thy  grace,  I  may  be  willing  to  endure  life  as  long 
as  thou  pleasest  to  lengthen  it.  It  is  not  enough  to  be 
willing  to  leave  the  world  when  God  pleases  ;  we  should 
be  willing  even  to  live  useless  in  it,  if  he,  in  his  holy 
providence,  should  send  such  a  calamity  upon  us.  O  God  ! 
save  me  from  that  hour ! ' 

The  passage  above  was  never  intended  for  human 
eye,  but  after  reading  it  we  are  deeply  impressed 
with  the  manliness  of  his  future  course.  It  was,  in- 
deed, the  most  striking  trait  in  his  character.  He 
never  referred  in  any  manner  whatever  to  his  malady. 
It  was  never  an  excuse  from  any,  the  utmost,  mental 
exertion.  It  was  never  allowed  to  diminish  his  use- 
fulness, and  hardly  to  impair  his  cheerfulness.  Only 
the  sister  who  lived  with  him,  and  whose  watchful 
eye  was  scarcely  ever  closed,  knew  how  often  his 
attacks  occurred,  and  how  he  shook  off  the  languor 
and  lassitude  they  left,  and  with  serene  brow  armed 
himself  for  the  waiting  duty. 

Some  extracts  from  letters  to  a  classmate,  remain, 
of  this  period.* 

'  Kxeter,  Sept.  1801. 

'  Dear  Friend,  —  My  feelings  and  habits  are  so  much 
changed  since  I  wrote  you  last,  that  I  have  hardly  one 
passion  in  common  with  those  which  dictated  my  former 
letters,  except  that  of  affection  for  you,  which  I  hope  to 
retain  amid  all  the  reverses  of  life.  Your  last  letter, 
though  couched  in  the  gentlest  language,  was  a  severe 
reproach  of  my  negligence  in  suffering  a  correspondence 
once  so  interesting  to  languish  in  suspense.  But  it  has 
ever  been  my  fault  to  be  too  much  the  slave  of  time  and 

*  Rev.  Joshua  Bates,  D.  D.,  late  President  of  Middlebury  College. 


128  LETTERS    TO    A    CLASSMATE. 

circumstance,  and  to  suffer  the  frequency  of  correspondence 
to  abate  without  any  diminution  of  regard  to  my  friends. 
My  last  letter  to  you,  which  I  have  not  to  this  day  com- 
pleted, I  had  wrought  up  with  considerable  pains.  It  was 
a  summary  of  arguments  used  to  confute  Mr.  Hume's 
assertion  of  the  impossibility  of  proving  miracles  by  testi- 
mony. As  I  had  begun  it  as  much  for  my  own  satisfaction 
as  for  your  perusal,  as  fast  as  I  matured  a  paragraph  I 
copied  it  into  the  letter.  When  this  ingens  opus  was  nearly 
completed,  as  it  lay  loose  upon  my  table,  it  was  by  some 
mischance  torn  and  mutilated,  and  rendered  wholly  useless. 
About  this  time  my  mind  began  to  be  occupied  with  the 
idea  of  coming  here,  and  my  situation  since  has  left  me 
neither  the  disposition  nor  the  ability  to  resume  the  subject. 

'  It  is  so  long  since  I  have  made  any  effort  in  the  way  of 
composition,  that  the  news  of  your  having  written  two 
sermons  I'eally  alarmed  me.  Go  on,  my  friend,  and 
prosper,  and  may  the  God  of  truth  lead  you  into  all  truth, 
and  give  you  understanding  in  all  things.  As  for  myself, 
I  feel  my  literary  enthusiasm  abate  by  this  change  in  my 
situation  ;  the  spoils  of  ancient  and  of  modern  learning  are 
snatched  out  of  my  hands,  and  he  who  once  vainly  and 
ambitiously  aspired  to  the  name  of  a  scholar  is  now 
reduced  to  teach  beggarly  rudiments  to  the  child,  or  to 
hammer  the  higher  branches  into  harder  heads.  The  poor 
moments  of  leisure  which  I  enjoy  will  hardly  admit  of  any 
close  application,  and  if  the  approach  of  winter  does  not 
strengthen  my  mind,  with  my  body,  I  shall  soon  be  obliged 
to  look  back  upon  my  past  life  and  say,  "  Fin  ! "  O  my 
friend  !  of  all  the  maladies  of  the  mind,  melancholy  is  the 
worst.  It  is  at  once  the  parent,  the  offspring,  and  the 
companion  of  idleness. 

'  If  you  ask  what  has  been  my  course  of  reading  since  I 
have  been  here,  I  could  scarcely  answer,  as  it  has  been 
without  order,  without  interest,  and  without  effect.  I  have 
read  about  a  hundred   pages  of   Latin,  about  thirteen  in 


LETTERS    TO    A    CLASSMATE.  129 

Greek,  and  the  one  hundred  and  nineteenth  Psalm  in 
Hebrew,  and  consuUed  the  Greek  Testament  about  a  dozen 
times.  I  have  made  out  to  get  through  Montesquieu's  Rise 
and  Fall,  and  one  volume  of  Sully's  Memoirs. 

'  If  possible,  I  will  spend  a  day  with  you  in  the  vacation, 
and  we  will  see  each  other  face  to  face.  I  love  better  to 
converse  than  to  write.  If  I  should  hunt  up  the  originals 
of  my  last  letter,  I  will  reduce  them  to  some  order  and 
send  them. 

'  Farewell !    Yours,  with  unabated  regard, 
'  'J.  S.  B.' 

From  the  above  letter  it  appears  that  the  change 
from  the  careless  freedom  of  college  life,  to  the  some- 
what irksome  duty  of  teaching  the  beggarly  rudi- 
7ne?its,  was  at  first  not  without  its  effect  in  checking 
the  serenity  of  his  disposition.  He  suffered  at  first 
from  that  which  is  always  to  men  of  rich  endowments 
a  vexing  and  irksome  employment.  But  he  was  able 
to  convert  it  into  a  source  of  mental  improvement  for 
himself,  and  into  an  elevating  and  satisfactory  occu- 
pation. 

Another  extract  from  a  letter  of  this  period,  to  the 
same  friend,  follows  :  — 

'  '  Exeter,  March  1st. 

'  Indeed,  my  dear  friend,  the  circumstances  of  your  set- 
tlement evince  that  you  still  retain  some  of  the  wisdom  of 
the  children  of  this  world.  I  rejoice  at  it,  because  I  think 
that,  by  being  relieved  from  the  pressing  cares  of  a  scanty 
subsistence,  you  will  have  leisure  to  devote  to  those  pursuits 
which  are  at  once  the  duty  and  the  dignity  of  a  minister. 
The  age  calls  loudly  for  able  defenders  of  Christianity. 
The  wild  boar  threatens  to  tear  down  the  hedges  of  our 
vineyard,  and  the  laborers  are  ignorant  and  inactive  ;  they 
know  not  how  to  use  their  tools  for  the  culture  of  the  vine 


130  LETTERS   TO    A   CLASSMATE. 

or  the  defence  of  the  vineyard.  I  hope,  my  friend,  when 
the  husbandman  cometh  and  asketh  for  the  fruit,  we  may 
all  be  able  to  produce  some  of  the  richest  clusters.  When 
I  think  of  the  duties  and  opportunities  of  a  minister  of  the 
Gospel,  the  mark  to  which  they  should  press  forward  seems 
much  more  elevated  than  the  attainments  of  many  of  our 
clergymen  would  lead  one  to  expect.  Let  us  endeavor,  my 
friend,  to  magnify  our  office,  that  it  may,  by  the  blessing 
of  Heaven,  prove  at  least  a  barrier  to  that  inundation  of 
infidelity  on  one  side  and  enthusiasm  on  the  other,  which 
seems  to  be  sweeping  away  all  that  we  hold  valuable. 

'  My  reading  has  reference  to  the  study  of  divinity,  as 
far  as  my  little  leisure  will  admit.  My  principal  progress 
has  been  in  the  Latin  and  Greek  languages.  But  I  have 
not  the  suitable  books  to  prosecute  such  a  course  of  study  as 
I  should  wish  to  mark  out.' 


C  HAPT  ER    IX. 

Joseph's  residence  at  waltham.  —  theological  stud- 
ies.—  correspondence  with  his  father  upon  his 
religious   opinions,  and   upon   his  entrance  on  the 

MINISTRY. purpose  OF  RELINQUISHING    HIS  CHOSEN  PRO- 
FESSION, 

1803.  In   the    midst   of  the    perplexity  arising 

Aged  19.  from  the  father's  reluctance  that  his  son 
should  continue  the  laborious  charge  of  instructor  at 
Exeter,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  mental  excitement 
of  preparing  for  his  profession,  Providence  opened  a 
way,  and  the  kindness  of  that  excellent  relative, 
Theodore  Lyman,  suggested  the  means,  by  which  he 
could  be  relieved  from  the  instruction  of  the  Academy. 
My  brother  had  ever  found  in  him  and  in  Mrs.  Lyman, 
almost  the  interest  and  solicitude  of  parents.  He  had 
sometimes  spent  a  part  of  his  oollege  vacations,  under 
their  hospitable  roof,  and  in  the  interval  between  his 
leaving  college,  and  entering  upon  his  duties  at  Exe- 
ter, their  house  had  been  to  him  a  home  in  parental 
kindness,  and  far  more  than  his  own  humble  home, 
in  the  attractions  of  luxury,  and  the  access  to  refined 
society.  These  excellent  friends  now  interposed, 
and,  while  they  desired  that  he  should  live  in  their 
family,  with  leisure  to  pursue  his  studies,  proposed 
that  he  and  his  father  should  be  relieved  from  the 
mortification  of  dependence,  by   the    light   task   of 


132  RESIDENCE    AT    WALTHABI. 

instructing  Mr.  Lyman's  two  sons,  and  preparing  the 
elder  for  college. 

It  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1803,  that  he 
entered  Mr.  Lyman's  family,  as  an  instructor,  and  he 
then  wanted  a  few  months  of  completing  his  nine- 
teenth year.  His  residence  at  Exeter  had  given  firm- 
ness and  dignity  to  his  manners,  and  he  had  gained 
in  stature  and  in  manliness  of  appearance.  When 
the  family  removed  to  Waltham,  he  accompanied 
them ;  and  in  that  beautiful  residence,  surrounded 
with  all  the  soothing  and  strengthening  influences  of 
nature,  he  advanced  both  in  vigor  of  body  and  clear- 
ness of  perception  and  intellect. 

Amid  the  scenery  of  this  lovely  retreat,  where  land 
and  water  are  so  sweetly  blended,  and  the  hand  of 
taste  has  almost  created  another  Eden,  it  seems  as 
though  he  must  have  felt  the  peace  of  Eden.  With 
the  luxury  of  leisure,  the  early  morning  hours  for 
study,  and  the  quiet  evening  for  reflection,  soothed 
by  the  murmur  of  the  brook  that  ran  near  by,  in 
which  the  peaceful  stars  were  reflected,  the  perfumes 
of  fragrant  shrubs  and  the  songs  of  birds  blending 
with  the  waving  of  the  grass  upon  the  gracefully  un- 
dulating lawns,  it  would  seem  as  if  the  whole  year 
must  have  been  one  long  holiday  of  tranqufl  happi- 
ness. And  so  it  would  have  been,  could  the  kindness 
of  disinterested  friendship  and  the  society  of  the  re- 
fined and  the  cultivated  have  made  it  so.  We  learn 
from  passages  in  his  journal  that  this  year  of  outward 
peace  was  one  of  great  mental  trial.  It  does  not 
appear  what  was  the  cause  of  the  conflict,  but  we  can 
only  infer  that  it  was  connected  with  the  growing 
diff'erence  of  his  religious  opinions  from  those  of  his 


THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  133 

father,  which  he  knew  must  at  length  be  made 
known,  and  occasion  that  beloved  father  extreme 
pain.  We  do  not  know  what  secret  conflicts  were 
going  on  in  the  soul  amidst  outward  tranquillity. 
The  great  battles  of  the  spiritual  life  are  usually- 
fought  alone,  and  in  silence.  It  is  not  while  the 
whole  energies  of  the  mind  are  employed  in  sustain- 
ing the  weight  of  the  conflict,  that  descriptions  of  the 
battle  are  given.  It  is  afterwards,  when  they  can 
be  looked  back  upon  with  calmness  and  with  col- 
lected thoughts  ;  — and  he  did  not  live  to  draw  lessons 
for  others  from  the  work  in  his  own  soul.  That 
which  appears  outwardly  is  what  must  long  before 
have  been  ripening  in  the  mind,  and  all  that  is  seen 
is  the  fruit  that  falls  from  the  tree  of  life.  "  The 
world  hears  only  the  rustling  of  the  leaves,  beneath 
which  the  ripening  fruit  is  concealed." 

It  was  at  this  time,  as  appears  from  his  journal,  that 
he  made  a  thorough  examination  of  the  Trinitarian, 
Socinian,  and  Arian  hypotheses  upon  the  person  and 
character  of  Christ,  reading  the  standard  Trinitarian 
writers,  and  Priestley's  History  of  the  Corruptions 
of  Christianity,  the  Apostolic  fathers,  the  contest  of 
Priestley  with  the  Monthly  Review,  and  Bishop  Hors- 
ley's  Tracts.  His  journal  gives  a  very  full  account 
of  these  studies,  and,  could  his  own  copies  of  the 
works  have  been  preserved,  we  should  be  able  to  see 
by  remarks  and  references  how  faithfully  he  com- 
pared and  illustrated  the  various  subjects.  While 
engaged  in  these  studies  he  received  the  news  of  the 
death  of  Priestley,  and  wrote  in  his  journal :  —  '  Per- 
haps for  the  variety  and  universality  of  his  acqui- 
sitions he  may  be  placed  at  the  head  of  the  learned 

12 


134  EXTRACTS  FROM  HIS  JOURNAL. 

of  the  eighteenth  century.  Party  politics,  that  bane 
of  every  thing  great  and  good,  have  cast  a  shade  over 
some  parts  of  this  great  man's  character;  but  1  believe 
that  posterity  will  do  justice  to  his  integrity,  as  well 
as  his  talents.  But  rather  than  lament  a  loss  of  such 
magnitude,  let  the  friends  of  rational  religion  and 
religious  liberty  bless  God  for  granting  our  age  such 
a  strenuous  and  learned  friend,  and  for  continuing 
him  so  long,  the  admiration  and  glory  of  science  and 
of  religion  in  its  various  departments.' 

He  says  in  a  letter  to  his  father,  about  this  time, 
that  he  has  read  and  thought  upon  the  subject  of  the 
Trinitarian  hypothesis  almost  to  distraction.  The 
result  of  his  inquiries  at  this  time  seems  to  have  been, 
that  he  rejected  Priestley's  view  of  the  pure  humanity 
of  Jesus,  and  also  the  hypothesis  of  a  Trinity  in  Uni- 
ty. He  seems  to  have  adopted  the  belief  of  the  pre- 
existence  of  the  Saviour,  and  of  the  connection  of  his 
life  and  death  with  the  pardon  of  sin,  while  repent- 
ance and  a  holy  life  were  also  necessary  to  insure  the 
favor  of  God. 

An  extract  from  the  journal  of  this  period  shows 
the  great  admiration  he  felt  for  another  work  which 
he  had  just  studied  with  attention. 

'  February  22.  Finished  Hartley  this  evening.  I  have 
not  read  the  works  of  Bacon,  Newton,  or  Aristotle  ;  but  if 
I  may  be  allowed  to  judge  from  the  impression  which  this 
work  has  made  upon  my  own  mind,  it  is  the  most  wonderful 
work  ever  completed  by  one  man.  Acute,  ingenious, 
original  in  his  theory,  clear  and  decisive  in  his  facts,  deep 
but  impartial  in  his  reasonings,  unbiased  in  his  conclusions, 
he  presents  us  with  a  work,  the  unassisted,  but  complete, 
production  of  one  mind,  explaining  all  the  usual  phenomena 


THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  135 

of  mind  from  a  simple  and  undeniable  principle,  that  of 
association  ;  and  by  this  clew  guiding  us  through  the  mazes 
of  metaphysics  and  of  morals.  In  fine,  every  part  of  his 
work  is  the  part  of  a  consistent  but  stupendous  whole. 
Though  the  theory  of  vibrations  may  be  wholly  separated 
from  the  system,  it  is  most  ingeniously  interwoven  with  it. 
The  second  volume  is  peculiarly  interesting  to  the  theolo- 
gian, as  it  vindicates  the  ways  of  God  to  man.  It  contains 
the  only  hypothesis  which  satisfactorily  illustrates  the  intro- 
duction of  evil  and  the  nature  of  human  actions  ;  and, 
to  crown  the  whole,  a  rich  and  unusual  vein  of  piety  runs 
through  the  work,  which  cannot  fail  to  recommend  it  to  the 
serious  Christian.  Thus  I  have  ventured  to  record  the 
superficial  decision  of  my  feeble  judgment.  If  I  should 
dare  to  point  out  the  weaker  parts,  I  should  mention  the 
chapter  on  the  terms  of  salvation,  and  some  few  passages 
in  the  evidences  of  Christianity  and  some  remarks  on 
Evangelical  counsels.  I  do  not  think  his  account  of  the 
love  of  God  either  exaggerated,  enthusiastic,  or  fanciful, 
especially  when  he  so  often  acknowledges  that  it  is  hardly 
attainable  in  the  present  life.  His  notions  of  refined  self- 
interest  and  its  pleasui'es  are  not  easily  understood,  and  are 
verj'  inadequately  explained  ;  and  there  seems  to  be  little 
propriety  in  making  the  moral  sense  a  principle  of  action, 
distinct  from  the  principles  of  benevolence,  piety,  and 
rational  self-interest.  Of  the  notes  of  Pistorius,  it  is 
enough  to  say,  that  they  are  worthy  to  accompany  the 
work  on  which  they  comment.' 

The  profound  admiration  and  respect  that  my 
brother  felt  for  Dr.  Freeman  has  been  already  men- 
tioned. The  latter  being  connected  by  marriage  with 
his  father,  he  frequently  invited  the  son  to  visit  and 
pass  weeks  at  his  house  ;  where  his  influence  insensibly 
won  upon  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  young  man,  so 
that  he  became  in  some  degree  involved  in  the  design 


136  DR.    FREEMAN. 

of  Dr.  Freeman  to  associate  him  with  himself  as  a 
colleague,  and  finally  to  leave  the  labors  of  the  Chapel 
pulpit  to  him.  He  had  obtained  a  promise  from  him, 
that,  with  the  consent  of  his  father,  he  would  imme- 
diately assist  him  in  reading  the  Liturgy,  and,  as  soon 
as  he  was  licensed,  he  would  preach  in  his  desk. 
When  these  circumstances  came  to  the  ears  of  his 
father,  they  probably  presented  the  first  certain  con- 
firmation of  his  fears,  that  his  son  was  imbibing  the 
liberal  sentiments  of  Unitarians,  or  '  Socinians,'  as 
those  who  embraced  Dr.  Freeman's  views  were  called. 
Some  misgivings  naturally  arise  as  to  the  wisdom  or 
propriety  of  making  public  letters,  which,  like  the  fol- 
lowing, revive  the  remembrance  of  an  ancient  strife, 
and  expose  feelings  and  fears  over  which  death  has 
sealed  its  calm  silence.  Such  documents  admit  of  an 
unfair  use  in  the  sectarian  strife  which  has  not  yet 
ceased.  But  generous  and  considerate  minds  will 
accompany  their  perusal  with  a  candid  commentary, 
and  will  smooth  over  the  seeming  harshness  of  human 
judgments  with  the  gentler  spirit  of  Christian  charity, 
which  they  who  feel  their  own  need  of  it  will  ever 
be  ready  to  extend  to  the  sincere  and  good.  The 
struggle  which  is  to  be  exposed  between  earnest  and 
serious  convictions,  formed  through  thought,  study, 
and  prayer,  and  the  tender  sensibilities  of  filial  love, 
grieved  even  by  dissent  from  a  father's  opinions,  is 
too  sacred  a  matter  for  cold,  controversial  dispute. 
The  revelations  here  made  may  serve  as  an  intima- 
tion of  the  gentler  feelings  which  were  involved  in 
the  more  passionate  and  contentious  issues  opened  in 
the  doctrinal  warfare  of  past  years. 


CORRESPONDENCE    "WITH    HIS    FATHER.  137 

'  Dec.  Sd,  1803. 

'My  dear  Son,  —  I  have  seen  with  anxiety,  for  a  very- 
considerable  time,  your  partiality  to  particular  persons,  and 
have  feared  that  your  happiness  would  depend  too  much 
upon  the  place  of  your  destination.  You  should  not  think 
any  persons  or  place  necessary  to  your  happiness.  You 
should  realize  that  the  Divine  favor  and  approbation  are 
the  great  prerequisites  to  happiness,  and  endeavor  to  be 
prepared  for  any  place  to  which  God  shall  call  you,  with 
the  manifest  tokens  of  his  favor.  If  your  years  and 
experience  were  such  as  to  render  it  prudent  to  settle  in  the 
ministiy,  and  you  had  qualified  yourself  in  the  judgment 
of  those  who  license  candidates,  and  you  had  made  an 
experiment  of  your  gifts  in  less  splendid  and  populous 
places  than  Boston,  I  should  not  object  to  your  supplying 
Brattle  Street  desk,  as  they  have  desired  ;  though  1  think 
the  situation  far  from  eligible  for  a  young  minister  who 
would  act  in  all  things  with  a  wise  reference  to  the  account 
which  he  must  at  last  desire  to  give  "  with  joy,  and  not 
with  grief." 

'  As  to  the  manoeuvre  in  School  Street,  for  I  can  call 
it  nothing  else,  as  it  wears  a  singular  complexion,  so  it 
excites  singular  emotions.  I  fear  you  have  suffered  your 
great  partiality  for  Mr.  Freeman  as  a  man  to  warp  your 
judgment  and  seduce  your  heart  respecting  some  of  the 
important  doctrines  of  our  holy  religion,  and  the  founda- 
tion of  our  hope  as  sinners.  Could  he  have  taken  such  a 
step,  unless  he  had  believed  it  would  be  agreeable  to  you  ? 
Could  he  have  been  so  ungenerous  as  to  reduce  you  to  the 
situation,  so  painful  to  your  feelings  as  a  son,  which  he 
must  have  known,  without  saying  any  thing  to  your  father  ? 
I  feel  myself  under  obligations  to  Mr.  Freeman  and  his 
family  for  kindness  to  me  in  past  days  of  distress;  but  if 
they  are  to  be  cancelled  at  such  a  premium  as  the  delicacy 
of  conscience  of  my  son,  or  of  his  being  ensnared  into 
his  system  or  principles,  it  would  have  been  better  for 
12* 


138        CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  HIS  FATHER. 

me  to  have  died  without  their  sympathy.  Could  he  have 
proceeded  so  far,  if  he  had  not  been  possessed  with  the 
persuasion  that  you  were  favorable  to  his  opinions  ?  — 
opinions  which,  in  my  view,  annihilate  the  hope  of  every 
sinner,  and  destroy  all  the  energy  of  the  Gospel  to  sanctify 
and  renew  the  soul.  Could  he  flatter  himself  that  a 
descendant  of  the  venerable  and  firm,  though  catholic, 
Stevens,  and  the  independent  and  honest  train  of  Buck- 
minsters,  could  be  induced  to  aid  in  the  support  of  senti- 
ments that  he  did  not  believe,  or  that  he  was  so  pliant  that 
by  art  and  industry  and  flattery,  he  could  be  moulded  into 
any  thing  ?  I  confess,  my  son,  I  feel  myself  hurt  by  this 
business  ;  especially  that  Mr.  Freeman,  considering  your 
extreme  youth  and  your  relation  to  me,  should  take  such 
a  step,  without  ever  hinting  one  syllable  of  his  intentions 
to  me.  I  can  excuse  him  upon  no  other  principle,  than 
that  he  has  never  known  what  the  heart  of  a  parent  is.  I 
hope  you  have  resolutely  and  finally  stopped  their  pro- 
ceedings. Timeo  Danaos  et  dona  ferentes.  If  not,  you 
must  decline  their  proposal,  and  at  once  excuse  yourself 
from  their  service.  If  Providence  should  spare  my  life  and 
yours,  and  give  me  any  leisure  from  my  present  crowd  of 
duty,  I  will  endeavor  to  devote  some  hours  to  you  upon 
this  subject.' 

This  letter  enables  us  to  understand  the  entry  in 
Joseph's  journal,  of  December  22d,  1803  :  — 

'  Went  to  Newton,  [the  residence  of  Dr.  Freeman,] 
Thursday,  and  returned  on  Saturday.  This  has  been  a 
week  of  distress,  from  causes  which  I  hope  to  look  back 
upon  with  satisfaction.  O,  that  I  could  reconcile  the 
commands  of  conscience,  the  claims  of  parental  love,  and 
the  wishes  of  fond  and  partial  friends  !  Let  vanity  yield 
to  prudence  and  self-knowledge,  and  both  be  the  offspring 
of  humility.     O  God,  enlighten   my  understanding,  purify 


CORRESPONDENCE.  139 

my  desires,  increase  my  single  love  of  duty,  and  guide  my 
present  steps ! ' 

Dr.  Backminster  had  urged  upon  his  son  his  own 
desire  that  he  should  leave  Boston  at  this  time,  where 
Mr.  Lyman's  family  always  resided  in  the  winter, 
and  place  himself  under  the  instruction  of  Dr.  Lath- 
rop  of  Springfield,  or  Dr.  Dana,  of  Ipswich. 

He  writes  to  his  son  again,  December  27th,  1803:  — 

'  I  was  in  hopes  that  before  this  time  you  had  left  Boston, 
to  which  I  fear  you  are  too  much  attached,  and  that  you 
think  a  residence  there  too  necessary  to  your  happiness. 

"  Fixed  to  no  place  is  happiness  sincere  ; 
'Tis  nowhere  to  be  found,  or  everywhere.'^ 

'  Our  happiness,  my  son,  must  be  the  result  of  doing  our 
duty,  of  submitting  to  God,  and  enjoying  his  favor,  or  we 
should  be  wretched  in  palaces,  nay,  even  in  paradise.  I 
have  heard  nothing  from  you  since  I  recommended  your 
going  to  Dr.  Lathrop's  to  spend  some  time.  I  think  your 
friends  judge  unwisely  for  you  and  for  themselves  by 
urging  you  to  preach,  and  especially  in  wishing  you  to 
settle  in  Boston.  Many  will  think  that  your  remaining 
there,  and  being  exposed  to  the  complimentary  remarks 
and  the  wishes  that  will  be  urged  upon  you,  is  an  indication 
of  your  desire  to  settle  there  ;  and  this  will  prejudice  many 
against  you,  and  give  them  a  distaste  for  your  services,  if 
you  should  in  future  be  called  to  preach  there.  Then,  after 
all  that  has  been  said  and  done,  if  your  preaching  should 
not  be  acceptable  in  Boston,  you  will,  I  fear,  be  mortified, 
and  perhaps  discouraged.  If  the  plan  I  proposed  had  been 
agreeable  to  you,  it  would  have  omened  well  for  you  ;  but  I 
can  do  no  more  than  advise,  and  refer  all  to  God. 

'  If  your  heart  is  really  possessed  with  the  fear  and  love 
of  God,  and  you  are  willing,  from  love  to  Christ  and  the 


140  CORRESPONDENCE. 

souls  of  men,  to  be  a  partaker  of  the  afflictions  of  the 
Gospel,  and  to  be  a  laborer  in  any  part  of  God's  vineyard, 
and  are  ready  to  offer  yourself,  you  had  perhaps  better 
present  yourself  for  examination  ;  but  whenever  you  begin 
to  preach,  I  would  advise  you  not  to  begin  in  Boston.  I 
pray  God  to  have  you  in  his  holy  keeping.' 

Thus  his  father  watched  every  avenue  to,  and  was 
as  solicitous  to  guard  the  delicacy  of,  his  son's  honor, 
as  he  was  careful  to  shield  him  from  disappointment, 
and  to  prevent  him  from  experiencing  the  least  morti- 
fication. The  next  subject  of  anxiety  is  the  applica- 
cation  for  the  son  to  preach  at  Brattle  Street,  Boston. 

'December  31st,  1803. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  I  have  treated  the  idea  of  your  preach- 
ing in  Boston,  or,  indeed,  preaching  any  where,  at  present, 
as  mere  matters  of  Utopia ;  but  I  received  a  letter  this  week 
from  Judge  Sullivan  upon  the  subject,  in  which  he  seems  to 
think  there  would  be  no  inconvenience  or  impropriety  in 
your  beginning  in  Brattle  Street,  and  intimates  that  he  had 
suggested  it  to  you,  although  he  relieved  me  by  observing, 
that  you  did  not  give  him  any  encouragement,  or  i-eceive 
the  matter  as  a  subject  of  serious  consideration. 

'  Although  I  have  supposed  that  you  had  thought  of  the 
ministry  as  a  profession,  and  it  is  perfectly  agreeable  to  me 
that  you  should  enter  it,  if  God  has  given  or  should  give 
you  the  necessary  qualifications,  yet,  considering  your 
extreme  youth  and  the  state  of  your  health,  I  have  wished 
you  to  look  upon  it  as  an  object  in  the  distant  future.  But 
if  you  have  thought  of  beginning  to  preach  any  time  whhin 
these  six  months,  you  should  resolve  to  reside  with  some 
clergyman,  whose  company,  conversation,  and  ministerial 
gifts  would  assist  and  initiate  you  into  some  of  the  more 
private,  as  well  as  public,  offices  of  the  profession  ;  then, 
when   it  shall   be   judged    prudent    or   proper,   you   should 


CORRESPONDENCE.  141 

come  forward  in  some  more  retired  place,  certainly  not 
begin  in  the  metropolis  of  New  England.  It  is  better  to 
have  it  said  to  us,  "  Come  up  higher,"  than  to  have  it  said, 
"  Go  down  lower."  I  hope  you  will  not  consent  to  that 
which  has  at  least  the  apjyearance  of  vanity,  by  making 
your  first  attempt  in  Boston,  —  that  your  friends  will  not 
urge  it,  and  that  you  will  not  permit  them  to  urge  it. 

'  You  know,  my  dear  son,  that  it  has  always  been  my 
opinion  that  it  would  be  best  for  you,  as  I  think  it  is  for 
every  student  in  divinity,  to  spend  some  time  with  an 
approved  arid  respectable  clergyman  before  he  begins 
preaching  ;  and  I  hope  you  will  take  some  measures  to 
study  awhile  with  Dr.  Lathrop  of  Springfield.  As  to  your 
qualifications  for  examination,  I  have  no  doubt  you  would 
acquit  yourself  so  as  to  obtain  approbation,  and  if  I  were 
as  certain  of  your  having  those  qualifications  for  the  min- 
istry which  God  only  can  give,  as  of  your  having  those 
which  are  attained  by  human  industry  and  application,  I 
should  not  object  to  your  offering  yourself  for  examination. 
But  you  would  come  with  fairer  prospects  from  under  the 
wing,  and  with  the  countenance,  of  some  respectable 
clergyman,  than  from  your  present  residence.  I  hope 
God  will  be  your  guide  and  guardian,  and  if  he  designs 
you  for  a  laborer  in  his  vineyard,  he  will  furnish  you  and 
send  you  forth.  Let  us  hear  from  you  soon.  Your  afiec- 
tionate,  but  anxious  father, 

'  J.    BUCKMINSTER.' 

We  have  seen  that  Judge  Sullivan  consulted  both 
father  and  son  upon  the  subject  of  the  son's  preaching 
at  Brattle  Street,  in  December,  1803.  The  next  step 
was,  that  a  committee  of  the  Brattle  Street  Church 
addressed  themselves  to  the  son,  in  the  beginning  of 
March,  1804,  urging  him  to  make  his  first  trial  there. 
Upon  which  his  father  writes  :  — 


142   LETTER  UPON  PREACHING  AT  BRATTLE  STREET. 

'  March  19th,  1804. 

'  My  DEAR  Son,  —  You  have  long  had  my  opinion  and 
advice  ;  nor  have  I  seen  any  reason  to  alter  them  ;  and 
though  not  delivered  in  that  peremptory  and  absolute  way 
that  used  to  be  the  custom  in  the  treatment  of  children,  they 
were  no  less  decided.  If  my  advice  had  been  regarded,  and 
you  had  passed  the  winter  at  Springfield  or  Ipswich,  you 
would  have  escaped  your  perplexities,  and  would  have  been 
in  greater  readiness  to  meet  the  application  of  the  Brattle 
Street  Church.  I  should  now  advise  you  to  place  yourself 
with  one  of  those  gentlemen,  and  tell  the  committee  in 
Boston,  that,  as  soon  as  your  instructor  thought  proper  to 
bring  you  forward,  you  would  commence  preaching.  It  is, 
indeed,  absurd  for  them  to  fix  their  eyes  only  upon  you. 

'  If  you  are  qualified  to  begin  to  preach,  the  train  of  your 
preparation  has  been  a  little  singular,  and  you  must  come 
upon  the  stage  under  that  disadvantage.  I  can  do  nothing 
for  you,  my  dear  son,  in  the  perplexed  and  embarrassed 
state  of  my  family.  If  your  mother  were  not  so  ill,  I  should 
desire  you  to  return  home  ;  but  her  situation  is  such  as  to 
demand  all  my  attention,  beside  the  family  being  so  encum- 
bered with  nurses  that  little  study  could  be  done  here.  If 
you  cannot  reconcile  it  to  your  feelings  to  go  to  either  of  the 
gentlemen  I  have  mentioned,  why  cannot  you  reside  a  little 
while  with  Dr.  Morse  or  with  Mr.  Homer  of  Newton  ? 

'  I  should  be  glad  to  see  some  of  your  essays  or  disserta- 
tions upon  some  doctrinal  points,  if  you  have  written  any ; 
it  would  enable  me  better  to  judge  of  your  ripeness  for  your 
public  appearance.  But,  whatever  you  do,  ask  counsel  of 
God,  and  rest  yourself  upon  his  mercy.' 

Upon  this  request  of  his  father,  Joseph  went  to 
Portsmouth,  and,  in  various  conversations  viuth  him, 
the  painful  doubts  of  the  son  upon  those  points  of 
doctrine  which  the  Calvinistic  theology  deems  neces- 
sary for  acceptance  with  God  became  apparent.    The 


DIFFERENCES    IN    RELIGIOUS    SENTIMENT.  143 

son  says,  in  his  private  journal,  that  he  could  never 
dispute  or  argue  with  his  father ;  that  such  was  his 
tenderness  for  him,  and  his  habit  of  implicit  acquies- 
cence in  all  his  wishes,  that  disputing  was  as  impos- 
sible as  it  would  have  been  to  have  disobeyed  his 
orders  in  his  childhood.  But  when  it  came  to  direct 
question  and  answer,  the  candor  and  honesty  of  the 
son  would  not  permit  him  to  make  use  of  any  con- 
cealment or  mental  reservation. 

The  father  was  at  this  time  oppressed  by  family 
cares  and  anxieties.  The  long  and  dangerous  illness 
of  his  beloved  wife  was  drawing  rapidly  to  a  fatal 
termination,  leaving  him  with  a  young  and  almost 
helpless  family,  so  that,  when  the  fact  of  his  son's 
departure  from  what  he  believed  the  faith  once  de- 
livered to  the  saints  came  with  conviction  to  his 
heart,  it  is  not  strange  that  he  was  nearly  over- 
whelmed. In  the  letters  that  follow,  he  seems  to 
have  forgotten  the  ripening  excellences  of  his  son's 
character,  the  comfort  he  had  already  enjoyed  in  his 
docility,  and  the  confidence  he  felt  in  the  manliness 
of  his  character,  and,  because  a  certain  speculative 
faith  was  wanting,  to  have  regarded  all  the  rest,  to 
use  his  own  expression,  as  '  only  filthy  rags.' 

This  difference  in  religious  sentiment  was  probably 
the  severest  trial  to  both  that  they  could  have  met 
with  in  the  unclouded  confidence,  the  transparent 
openness  of  intercourse,  that  existed  between  them. 
Although  it  is  proper  for  the  memorial  of  both  that 
the  correspondence  should  not  be  be  withheld,  yet, 
as  they  were  both  of  one  spirit,  both  loved  their 
Divine  Master  supremely,  this  difference  of  their  faith 
respecting  him  never  for  a  moment  impaired  their 


144  Joseph's  first  sermon,  at  tore, 

love  to  him,  or  to  each  other.  They  could  never  be 
far  apart,  for  they  stood  upon  the  same  ground  of 
intimate  conviction  of  the  greatest  and  most  impor- 
tant truths.  God  was  next  the  heart  of  both.  But 
the  one  belonged  to  a  particular  system ;  he  was 
trammelled  by  a  theory,  and  he  feared  that  his  son 
would  be  bewildered  and  lost,  were  he  not  also  bound 
by  the  faith  of  ancient  creeds.  Both  possessed  the 
same  principle  of  inward,  spiritual  life.  It  came  from 
the  same  source  ;  it  conformed  both  in  thought,  tem- 
per, and  action  to  the  inward  oracle  of  right ;  in  both 
it  led  to  disinterested  love  of  man,  —  to  high  endeavor 
for  the  good  of  others ;  it  gave  strength  to  suffer  to 
the  one ;  it  gave  him  humility  to  bear  success  to  the 
other.  It  has  been  said  that  it  came  from  the  same 
source  ;  to  continue  the  metaphor,  one  drank  it  from 
the  iron  pipes  in  which  man  had  bent  and  checked 
the  stream,  the  other  from  the  pure,  freshly  flowing 
river.  We  may  believe  that  both  were  channels  of 
God's  blessing  to  others,  each  performing  services 
equally  acceptable  in  his  sight. 

Upon  this  visit  at  Portsmoth,  my  brother  preached 
his  first  sermon,  at  York,  in  the  pulpit  of  his  venerable 
relative,  Mr.  Lyman,  the  father  of  his  step-mother. 
He  was  disabled  from  preaching,  and  had  long  been 
confined  to  the  house  by  a  palsy;  but  upon  this  occa- 
sion he  once  more  ascended,  with  tottering  steps,  the 
pulpit  stairs,  to  listen  to  his  young  relative.  The 
occasion  and  scene  were  made  striking  by  the  ex- 
tremely youthful  appearance  of  the  young  preacher, 
his  beautiful  countenance  radiant  with  genius  and  the 
expression  of  elevated  thought,  and  that  of  the  aged 
minister,  whose  white   hairs  were    covered   with   a 


MEETING-HOUSE  AND  CONGREGATION  OF  OLD  YORK.      145 

velvet  cap,  and  who  could  not  even  rise  when  the 
prayer  was  offered  for  him,  that  his  trembling  steps 
might  be  gently  supported  through  the  short  descend- 
ing path  to  the  grave.  They  presented  almost  the 
extremes  of  life  meeting  in  one  common  petition,  for 
there  were  some  present  who  thought  the  life  of  the 
younger  more  frail  and  tremulous  than  even  that  of 
the  aged  pastor. 

There  was  a  circumstance  which  the  writer  well 
remembers.  My  brother,  in  reading  the  chapter  from 
Scripture,  omitted  a  word,  or  substituted  a  different 
meaning  of  some  word,  which  the  elder  minister 
instantly  corrected,  by  calling  out  in  full  voice  the 
received  reading ;  the  other  slightly  smiled  and  went 
on. 

This  meeting-house  and  congregation  of  Old  York 
■were  both  among  the  most  ancient  and  primitive  in 
the  country.  The  venerable  old  building  is  now  re- 
placed by  a  modern  structure,  with  slips  within,  and 
white  paint  without.  The  ancient  building  was  per-' 
feet  in  its  iconoclasm.  The  square,  oaken  pews, 
polished  and  dark  with  age,  Avere  guiltless  of  all 
carpet,  cushion,  or  seductive  invitation  to  wandering 
thoughts;  the  beams  of  the  ceiling  were  formed  of 
heavy  timber,  roughhewn  into  form.  Beneath  the 
pulpit  was  an  inclosed  seat  for  the  elders,  two  hoary- 
headed  old  men,  with  long,  waving  locks.  Upon  the 
corner  of  these  seats  the  old  frame  for  the  hour-glass 
kept  its  place,  the  sands  long  since  run  out  and  mo- 
tionless. In  front  of  these  was  another  square  inclosed 
seat  for  the  deacons,  and  facing  them,  upon  the  floor 
of  the  meeting-house,  were  seats  for  the  singers. 
Within  the  childish  memory  of  the  writer,  the  hymn 
13 


146  CORRESPONDENCE 

was  given  out  two  lines  at  a  time,  and  sung  with 
pauses  breaking  the  harmony  of  the  verses.  In  each 
pew,  close  to  the  mother's  elbow,  was  the  little 
wooden  cage,  where  the  youngest  child,  still  too 
young  to  sit  alone,  was  for  two  long  hours  an  infant 
prisoner. 

Primitive  as  was  the  church,  the  congregation  also 
retained  its  Puritan  aspect,  as  they  arrived,  one  family 
after  the  other,  from  their  old  farm-houses  among  the 
hills.  The  wife,  the  sister,  or  the  betrothed  dis- 
mounted at  the  old  oaken  block,  close  to  the  meeting- 
house door,  from  behind  her  cavalier ;  and  the  old 
family  horse  patiently  took  his  position  outside,  till 
the  long  service  was  over.  The  old  sexton  in  the 
porch,  rope  in  hand,  and  arrayed  in  his  cocked  hat, 
waited  anxiously  for  the  pastor ;  when,  quitting  the 
bell,  he  preceded  him,  hat  in  hand,  to  the  pnlpit 
siairs,  and  then,  when  the  door  was  closed,  respect- 
fully took  his  seat.  All  these  ancient  customs  passed 
away  from  our  manners  even  before  the  Puritan  meet- 
ing-houses disappeared  from  the  landscape. 

The  letters  that  follow  were  written  immediately 
after  my  brother's  visit  to  Portsmouth.  It  is  to  be 
regretted  that  so  few  of  the  son's  replies  have  been 
preserved. 

'June  25,  1804. 

'My  unhappy  Son,  —  lean  pity  you  and  pray  for  you, 
but  I  know  not  how  to  help  you,  preparing  to  be  a  minister 
of  Christ,  an  ambassador  of  God,  preparing  to  pull  down 
the  strongholds  of  sin,  to  turn  sinners  from  darkness  to  light, 
and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God,  and  yet  believing 
that  your  Master  is  only  a  created  being,  or  a  delegated 


UPON  THEOLOGICAL  DOCTRINES.  147 

messenger  of  Deity !  How  faint  must  be  your  hope  of 
success,  how  weak  your  expectations,  how  fallacious  your 
confidence,  —  striving  to  reconcile  sinners  to  God,  and  yet 
presenting  them  with  no  other  righteousness  as  the  ground 
of  their  hope  of  pardon  and  justification  but  their  own,  which 
is  but  as  filthy  rags !  An  awakened  conscience  will  never 
get  ease  upon  such  ground.  Nor  will  the  Church  of  Christ 
be  ever  built  up  where  the  doctrine  of  justification  is  not 
among  the  fundamental  principles  that  are  taught.  A 
worldly  church  may  be  built ;  men  may  be  formed  to 
external  decency  and  order,  but  the  corrupt  fountain  of  the 
heart  will  never  be  cleansed,  nor  the  soul  formed  to  be  a 
habitation  of  God,  where  the  doctrine  of  Christ's  atonement 
is  disowned,  or  where  it  is  not  made  the  ground  and  cause 
of  communicating  grace  to  men. 

'  You  ask  my  advice  when  it  is  too  late  to  give  it.  You 
should  have  listened  when  I  urged  your  studying  with  some 
clergyman  last  winter.  You  have  never  had  any  proper 
education  for  the  ministry,  and  will  feel  the  inconvenience 
of  it  all  your  days.  I  would  now  urge  your  immediately 
going  to  Springfield,  were  it  not  that  I  hear  Dr.  Lathrop  is 
not  in  a  situation  to  take  pupils  ;  but  if  you  can  be  released 
from  Mr.  Lyman's  family,  I  would  advise  you  to  go  to  Dr. 
Morse,  or  Dr.  Dana  of  Ipswich,  or  to  come  home. 

'  As  to  preaching,  I  do  not  see  how  you  can  extricate 
yourself.  Your  friends  have  committed  you,  by  binding  you 
to  a  promise  to  preach  at  such  a  time.  If  the  committee 
of  Brattle  Street,  or  of  any  other  church,  should  apply  to 
you  with  the  view  of  hearing  you  in  order  to  a  settlement, 
I  advise  you,  as  an  honest  man,  (and  this  you  seem  desirous 
to  be,)  to  tell  them  plainly  that  you  do  not  believe  in  the 
proper  Deity  and  Divinity  of  Chi'ist,  nor  in  his  vicarious 
satisfaction  and  atonement  for  the  sins  of  men,  and  I  pre- 
sume they  will  trouble  you  no  more  ;  or  if  they  should, 
nevertheless,  urge  you  to  preach,  I  advise  you,  in  your  first 
sermon,  to  be  explicit  upon  those  points,  and  not  make  use 


148 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


of  any  concealments  or  expressions  that  may  mean  any 
thing  or  nothing.  This  will  decide  the  matter  with  you  ; 
you  will  be  able  easily  to  relinquish  your  profession ;  for  I 
cannot  believe  that  the  churches  of  Christ  are  so  removed 
from  the  foundation  of  the  Apostles,  and  have  so  lost  the 
principles  of  the  Reformation,  that  they  would  settle  minis- 
ters who  deny  the  Divinity  of  the  Head  of  the  Church,  or 
the  price  at  which  it  has  been  purchased  and  redeemed. 
If,  therefore,  you  preach  where  you  have  any  reason  to 
suppose  the  people  hear  you  with  a  view  to  settlement,  be 
open  and  explicit. 

'  It  is  not  for  me  to  judge  another  man's  servant,  nor  to 
judge  my  own  son,  but  I  desire  to  receive  it  as  a  humiliating 
rebuke  from  my  Lord  and  Master,  tliat  he  should  so  far  con- 
ceal from  you  what  appears  to  me  the  great,  important,  and 
eternal  truth,  and  pervert  your  judgment  from  the  simplicity 
that  is  in  Christ.  O  that  I  may  be  removed  from  every  idol 
but  CTod !  Your  mamma  is  very  ill.  To  God  I  commend 
her  and  you,  and  trust  he  will  give  his  grace  to  all.  I  know 
he  will  be  glorified  in  us,  whatever  be  our  life  here  or  our 
situation  hereafter.' 

The  son  now  informs  his  father  that  he  has  en- 
gaged to  preach,  the  succeeding  Sabbath,  at  Waltham, 
for  the  Rev.  Dr.  dishing.  After  sonic  domestic  in- 
formation, the  father  replies  :  — 

'  July  7,  1804. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  As  to  the  unpleasant  situation  to  which 
you  have  reduced  yourself,  pledged  as  you  are  to  preach, 
1  know  not  what  to  say.  Indeed,  you  have  always  been  so 
reserved  with  respect  to  your  opinions,  that  I  know  not  what 
you  do  believe,  or  what  you  would  preach  and  say  to  your 
fellow-men.  How  you  can  doubt  those  doctrines  that  lie 
at  the  foundation  of  all  the  hopes  of  Christians  I  know  not, 
except  from  an  injudicious  course  of  reading.     I  am  per- 


CORRESPONDBNCE.  149 

suaded  you  will  think  differently  upon  these  doctrines  when 
you  come  to  have  more  acquaintance  with  your  own  heart 
and  the  hearts  of  others,  and  when  you  read  the  Scriptures 
with  this  impression,  which  is  certainly  a  just  one,  that  they 
were  designed  as  a  rule  of  faith  and  practice  to  men  in 
general,  to  the  unlearned  as  well  as  the  learned,  to  those 
that  are  incapable  of  criticising  no  less  than  to  those  who 
by  subtilty  of  reasoning  make  plain  things  intricate  and  dark 
things  plausible.  Certainly  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  as  it 
is  usually  received,  the  Divinity  of  the  Saviour,  and  his  pi*o- 
pitiatory  sacrifice  for  the  sins  of  men,  by  whose  righteous- 
ness we  are  justified  and  by  whose  grace  we  are  sanctified, 
are  the  most  plain  doctrines  of  Scripture,  and  those  who 
deny  them  are  obliged  to  explain  away  the  word  of  God  in 
order,  with  any  show  of  plausibility,  to  support  their  doctrine 
by  the  word  of  God.  I  am  sorry  you  have  pledged  yourself 
to  preach.  Read  Dr.  Bates's  Harmony  of  the  Divine  Attri- 
butes in  the  Work  of  the  Redemption,  and  put  yourself 
under  the  instruction  of  some  learned  and  pious  divine. 
Open  your  perplexities  and  difficulties  to  him,  but  above  all 
pray  to  God  to  guide  you  into  all  truth,  and  to  keep  you 
from  wounding  his  honor  and  his  cause.' 

The  son  replies  as  follows.  Would  that  we  had 
more  of  his  filial  letters  ! 

'  Waltham,  July  23,  1804. 

'My  dear  Father,  —  I  received  last  night  a  letter  from 
Judge  Sullivan,  as  chairman  of  the  Brattle  Street  committee, 
inquiring  whether  they  might  expect  me,  and  at  what  time, 
if  any,  I  would  engage  to  supply  them.  I  should  have 
answered  by  letter,  but  Mr.  Lyman  thinks  I  had  better  see 
him,  which  I  shall  do  to-morrow,  and  endeavor  to  preclude 
all  expectation  of  hearing  me,  and  all  hope  of  any  future 
consent  to  their  wishes. 

'  You  express  your  surprise  at  my  ever  having  thought 
13* 


150 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


of  preaching  with  such  sentiments  as  I  entertain.  I  do  not 
exactly  know  what  sentiments  you  suppose  me  to  hold  ;  but 
I  have  always  considered  it  to  be  the  object  of  the  Christian 
dispensation  to  lead  men  to  virtue  and  holiness,  and  that 
this  also  ought  to  be  the  great  object  of  its  ministers.  To 
this  end  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel  are  auxiliary  as  means 
or  motives,  without  any  intrinsic  value  in  themselves,  or  in 
the  acknowledgment  of  them,  except  so  far  as  they  lead  to 
this  great  end,  the  promotion  of  Christian  excellence.  If, 
then,  I  could  believe  that  this  great  end  could  be  attained 
without  insisting  upon  Jesus  Christ  being  the  most  high 
God,  I  felt  no  scruple  on  this  score  in  endeavoring  to 
bear  a  small  share  in  this  honorable  employment.  If 
circumstances  should  occur  which  would  make  it  proper 
or  necessary  for  me  to  make  an  explicit  avowal  on  this 
head  I  would  be  prepared  to  meet  them ;  but  if  they  should 
not,  I  conceived  it  to  be  my  first  duty  to  recommend 
holiness  by  motives  which  I  could  honestly  urge,  and  leave 
my  opinions  upon  disputed  points  to  the  private  inquiries 
of  my  hearers.  I  wished  not  to  deny  other  men's  belief, 
but  only  to  be  excused  from  preaching  what  did  not  make 
a  part  of  my  own.  Even  under  such  circumstances  I 
hoped,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  to  prove  a  servant  not 
entirely  unprofitable.  I  did  not  foresee,  in  its  utmost 
extent,  the  pain  which  my  skepticism  on  some  points  would 
give  you,  and  I  trusted,  perhaps,  too  much  to  the  influence 
of  time,  and  to  the  tendernesg~of  the  parental  relation. 

'  If,  however,  as  seems  now  to  be  the  case,  you  think  that 
son  unfit  to  be  a  preacher  who,  without  supposing  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  the  Most  High  God,  believes  that  he  is  an  illus- 
trious person,  enjoying  a  most  intimate  communion  with 
God,  and  possessing  a  peculiar  relation  to  him,  (a  relation 
which  we  can  perhaps  never  justly  understand,)  constituted 
also  our  infallible  guide  in  faith  and  practice,  and  exalted 
to  be  the  dispenser  of  all  spiritual  blessings,  and  the  future 
judge   of  mankind;  —  if  also,  in   your   opinion,   it  is  not 


CORRESPONDENCE.  151 

sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  Christian  obedience,  and  of 
love  and  gratitude  to  Christ's  character,  to  consider  his 
death  as  the  highest  act  of  his  obedience  and  suffering 
for  the  benefit  of  sinful  man,  and  as  the  ground  on  which 
God  chooses  to  dispense  his  pardon  to  the  penitent,  without 
considering  it  as  an  infinite  satisfaction  for  the  offended 
justice  of  God,  separate  from  which  God  could  not  or  would 
not  pardon  sin  ;  —  if  such,  I  say,  be  the  nature  of  your  views 
on  this  subject,  actuin  est  de  prcedicatione. 

'  But  I  have  already  written  and  thought  on  this  subject 
almost  to  distraction.  You  will  no  doubt  say,  my  father, 
that  I  should  have  taken  your  advice  last  winter,  and  put 
myself  under  the  tuition  of  some  clergyman.  Perhaps  I 
ought.  No  doubt  many  of  the  perplexities  of  my  present 
situation  would  have  been  avoided,  but  others  would  per- 
haps have  arisen,  and  the  principal  one  might  not  have  been 
removed.  Besides,  in  declining  your  proposal,  I  had  the 
universal  sentiment  of  my  friends  here  in  my  favor.  Now, 
it  appears  to  me  there  is  little  difference  between  relinquish- 
ing the  profession  entirely,  and  committing  myself  to  the 
instruction  of  any  clergyman  under  the  uncertain  hope  of 
attaining  at  last  to  those  views  of  Christian  truth  which  you 
deem  essential. 

'  I  have  employed  almost  every  day  since  my  return 
from  Portsmouth  in  reading  the  most  orthodox  works  on 
this  subject,  Edwards,  Jamieson,  Ridgely,  etc.,  and  from 
what  I  know  of  the  state  of  my  own  mind  I  despair  of 
ever  giving  my  assent  to  the  proposition  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  God,  equal  to  the  Father.  I  have  been  thus  explicit  to 
you,  my  dear  Sir,  that,  whatever  may  be  my  future  lot,  I 
may  still  retain  the  consciousness  of  having  preferred  the 
relinquishment  of  any  prospect  of  fame  and  preferment  to 
the  slightest  evasion  or  hypocrisy  upon  subjects  deemed 
by  you  so  important.  If  this  letter  have  any  thing  of  a 
presumptuous  or  dogmatical  air,  I  pray  you  to  forgive  it, 
as  it  has  arisen  from  the  desire  not  to  be  misunderstood. 


152  CORRESPONDENCE. 

'  It  is  probable  that  I  might  get  a  tutorship  at  college ; 
this  would  be  congenial  to  my  pursuits,  and  it  is  not  proba- 
ble that  I  shall  live  to  grow  a  burden  upon  their  hands.  I 
rejoice  to  hear  that  mamma  is  better.  If  you  can  only 
satisfy  yourself  that  I  do  not  cease  to  be  a  subject  of  the 
grace  of  God  when  I  cease  to  be  a  Trinitarian,  and  let  not 
this  disappointment  prey  upon  your  mind,  I  may  still  be 
useful  and  happy. 

'  Your  dear  son, 

'  J.  S.  B.' 

The  sympathy  of  a  reader  is  strongly  enlisted  alike 
for  the  father  and  son,  in  this  their  mutual  confidence, 
which  nothing  impaired  on  the  part  of  the  son,  and 
which  yielded  on  the  part  of  the  parent  only  to  a 
most  cherished  conviction  of  the  supreme  importance 
of  speculative  opinions.  What  an  exhibition  have 
we  here  of  the  different  offices  of  the  heart  and  mind 
in  settling  the  essentials  of  Christian  belief! 

To  the  foregoing  honest  and  explicit  letter  the 
father  returned  answer  :  — 

'  July  30,  1804. 

'  My  unhappy  Son,  —  If  you  are  fixed  and  settled  in 
the  sentiment  that  Jesus  Christ  is  not  a  Divine  person,  nor 
any  thing  more  than  a  created  messenger  of  God,  and  that 
the  business  of  his  coming  into  the  world  was  only  to  pub- 
lish truth,  and  to  attest  the  truth  that  he  published  with  his 
blood,  and  give  hope  and  confirmation  of  a  resurrection, 
but  not  to  make  atonement  and  satisfaction  for  sin,  and  if 
there  is  no  hope  of  your  having  different  views  upon  these 
points,  it  is  best  for  you  to  think  of  some  other  profession 
than  the  ministry  ;  you  had  better  be  a  porter  on  the  wharf 
than  a  preacher  with  such  views. 

'  You  are  young  enough  to  turn  your  attention  to  the 
study  of  law,  or  to  the  theory  and  practice  of  physic.     I 


CORRESPONDENCE.  153 

advise  you  never  to  be  a  preacher  with  such  an  opinion  of 
your  Master  and  his  system,  as  a  denial  of  his  Divinity  and 
his  atonement  necessarily  involve.  I  do  not  doubt,  my  son, 
that  men  have  had  the  real  consolations  of  the  Gospel  who 
have  held  different  views  of  many  religious  truths,  nor  that 
men  have  had  serenity  of  mind  in  holding  the  grossest 
errors.  But  the  consolations  of  the  Gospel  cannot  be 
enjoyed  by  those  who  destroy  the  fundamental  doctrines  oj 
the  Gospel,  and  he  who  does  not  build  upon  Christ  as  the 
foundation  of  all  hope,  and  upon  his  blood  as  the  price  of 
purchase,  and  the  blood  of  cleansing  from  all  sin,  can  have 
no  solid  hope  of  salvation.  Could  you  have  been  per- 
suaded to  follow  a  different  course  of  study,  it  appears  to 
me  these  difficulties  would  have  been  avoided  ;  but  I  have 
thought  it  my  duty  to  advise,  rather  than  to  insist,  and  if 
God  should  blast  the  fond  hopes  that  I  have  entertained 
respecting  you,  he  will  be  righteous.  I  desire  to  give  up 
all  into  his  hands  :  my  wife,  my  children,  and  my  own 
soul.' 

Upon  the  receipt  of  which  letter  the  son  writes  in 
his  private  journal :  —  '  Oh  God,  assist,  guide,  and 
direct  me  what  course  of  life  to  pursue  !  Save  me 
from  prejudice,  from  indifference,  from  ambition,  and 
from  worldly"  views.' 

And  to  his  father  he  writes  thus  :  — 

'  August  10th,  1804. 

'  My  dear  Father,  —  Your  last  letter  appears  to  be  final 
upon  the  subject  of  my  preaching ;  but  as  I  have  already 
made  an  engagement  to  preach  for  Dr.  Cushing,  my  sermon 
may  also  be  a  valedictory.  It  would  be  more  congenial  to 
my  feelings  and  pursuits  to  be  a  tutor  at  the  College,  than 
to  study  either  of  the  professions  you  mention.  My  tastes 
are  literaiy,  and  as  I  am  not  ambitious  of  riches,  the  salary, 


134  LETTER    TO    BIR.    SIDNEY    WILLAKD. 

together  with  my  own  little  fortune,*  would  be  amply  suffi- 
cient, even  if  my  health  should  fail  before  the  term  of  my 
existence. 

'  I  cannot  conceal  from  myself  and  from  you,  that  this 
termination  of  the  expectations  of  friends,  and,  may  I  not 
add  without  vanity,  of  the  ample  preparation  I  have  made 
for  my  profession,  is  a  severe  disappointment  of  my  fondest 
hopes.  Yet  the  preparation  may  not  be  altogether  lost.  If 
God  should  spare  my  life,  I  may  be  able  to  do  something  in 
diffusing  a  deeper  love  of  intellectual  pursuits,  and  a  purer 
taste  among  young  persons  of  my  own  age ;  and  the  malady 
with  which  God  has  visited  me  is  a  perpetual  warning  to  me 
that  I  have  no  right  to  expect  a  long  life. 

'  You  must  permit  me  to  differ  from  you  in  the  propriety 
of  declaring  my  views  from  the  pulpit.  I  shall  always  be 
ready  to  give  an  answer  to  private  inquiries,  but  I  conceive 
that  it  would  be  only  an  arrogant  assumption  for  the  young- 
est of  preachers  to  intrude  upon  a  mixed  audience  views 
that  might  be  startling,  that  perhaps  are  not  yet  matured  ; 
and  although  I  see  no  expectation  of  my  ever  becoming  a 
Trinitarian,  further  investigation  may  modify  what  is  now 
the  subject  of  incessant  thought  and  constant  pi'ayer. 
'  Your  affectionate  son, 

'  .1.  S.  Btjckminster.' 

That  Joseph  was  entirely  sincere  in  his  intention 
of  relinquishing,  out  of  respect  to  his  father,  the  pro- 
fession of  his  choice,  appears  from  a  letter  written, 
but  perhaps  not  sent,  to  Mr.  Sidney  Willard,  the 
Librarian  of  Harvard  College. 

'  Dec,  1803. 

'  Dear  Sir,  —  I  should  have  given  myself  the  pleasure  of 
waiting  upon  you  a  second  time  before  you  left  Portsmouth, 

*  Left  him  by  his  maternal  grandfather,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Stevens. 


PROPOSED    CHANGE    OF    PROFESSION.  155 

but  I  was  not  only  unwilling  to  interrupt  you  while  taking 
leave  of  your  friends,  but  the  subject  upon  which  I  wished 
to  speak  with  you  was  in  some  degree  private.  You  will 
recollect  that  I  then  took  the  liberty  of  asking  you,  if  you 
intended  to  leave  your  present  situation  at  Cambridge.  I 
should  not  have  been  so  impertinent  as  to  propose  the 
question,  except  that  I  had  heard  it  mentioned  from  several 
quarters  that  such  was  your  intention,  which  I  was  the  more 
induced  to  believe,  from  knowing  that  you  had  been  for 
some  time  engaged  in  preaching.  I  sometimes  indulge  my 
inclination  for  a  residence  at  Cambridge,  and  the  office  of 
Librarian  I  have  always  thought  would  be  most  accommo- 
dated to  the  pursuit  of  my  favorite  objects.  Perhaps  it  is 
presumptuous  in  me  to  expect  ever  to  attain  it ;  at  best,  my 
prospect  of  success  is  so  uncertain,  that  1  have  been  induced 
to  give  you  this  intimation  of  my  wishes,  presuming  that 
you  will  not  think  it  impertinent  in  me  to  suggest  them.  If 
your  intention  of  leaving  Cambridge  depend  upon  circum- 
stances at  present  doubtful,  you  will  greatly  oblige  me 
by  giving  me  notice  of  your  determination  whenever  it  is 
decidedly  formed.  I  will  take  the  liberty,  also,  of  request- 
ing you  to  inform  rne  whether  any  application  for  the  office 
has  yet  been  made.  If  my  request  should  appear  to  you  in 
any  degree  improper,  I  must  beg  your  pardon  for  troubling 
you  with  this  letter.' 


CHAPTER    X. 

CHARACTER    OF     DR.    BUCKMINSTEr's    PREACHING,  EX- 
TRACTS   FROM    HIS    SERMONS.  LETTERS. 

Dr.  Buckminster  had  now  been  settled  in 
Portsmouth  twenty-four  years,  and  during 
that  time  he  had  been  pursuing  the  usual  quiet  rou- 
tine of  the  duties  of  a  parish  minister,  varied  and 
rendered  more  than  usually  interesting  by  the  state  of 
the  public  mind  in  this  transition  period  of  the  coun- 
try. The  country  was  then  passing  through  those 
momentous  events  which  finally  established  its  pros- 
perity ;  but  while  they  were  in  progress,  they  deeply 
agitated  the  minds  of  all  men,  and  laid  upon  public 
instructors  a  double  weight  of  responsibility.  It  was 
then  deemed  proper,  even  indispensable,  that  minis- 
ters should  preach  upon  all  subjects  of  public  and 
political  interest,  expressing  their  individua,l  opinions 
with  moderation,  but  with  decision  and  indepen- 
dence ;  and  it  sometimes  happened  that  they  did  not 
confine  themselves  to  the  bounds  of  moderation. 
There  were  at  this  time  very  few  newspapers,  —  no 
reading-rooms  ;  the  public  press  was  just  beginning 
to  be  the  important  instrument  of  good  and  of  evil 
which  it  has  since  become,  and  the  preaching  of  the 

*  This  year  the  degree  of  Doctor  in  Divinity  was  conferred  upon 
Mr.  Buckminster  by  the  College  of  New  Jersey. 


PREACHING    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTEE.  157 

ministers,  at  least  in  country  places,  was  one  of  the 
great  means  of  instructing  and  informing  the  people 
in  political  affairs,  as  well  as  in  religious  duties. 

Since  the  period  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  settlement 
at  Portsmouth,  the  treaty  had  been  concluded  which 
finished  the  war  and  established  the  independence  of 
the  country.  The  terrible  depression  of  public  credit 
which  followed,  and  all  the  distressing  embarrass- 
ments of  the  period,  he  bore,  together  with  his  faith- 
ful parish,  waiting  for  better  times  for  the  full 
payment  of  his  moderate  salary.  The  adoption  of 
the  Constitution  ;  the  choice  of  rulers,  and  of  Wash- 
ington as  the  first  President;  his  visit  to  Portsmouth; 
his  retirement  from  the  Presidency  ;  the  choice  of 
John  Adams  ;  the  death  of  Washington,  and  the  sub- 
sequent celebration  of  his  birthday  and  also  the  com- 
memoration of  the  day  of  his  death,  were  signal 
occasions,  upon  all  of  which  Dr.  Buckminster  preached 
sermons  which  his  hearers  thought  worthy  of  more 
extensive  circulation,  and  at  their  request  they  were 
printed. 

A  sermon,  preached  by  him  at  the  time  of  the  visit 
of  Washington  to  the  Eastern  States,  subjected  him, 
from  those  who  did  not  hear  it,  to  severe  censure. 
Dr.  Buckminster  was  not  informed  till  late  on  Satur- 
day that  the  illustrious  guest  would  worship  at  his 
church  in  the  forenoon,  and  the  sermon  was  prepared 
in  haste  from  Psalm  xxiv.  7,  8  :  —  '  Lift  up  your 
heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lifted  up,  ye  everlasting 
doors,  and  the  King  of  Glory  shall  come  in.  Who  is 
this  King  of  Glory?  The  Lord  strong  and  mighty ; 
the  Lord  mighty  in  battle.' 

Perhaps  the  selection  of  the  text  was  unfortunate  ; 
U 


158  OCCASIONAL    SERMONS. 

but  to  all  who  heard  or  read  the  discourse,  it  appeared 
as  far  as  possible  from  any  intention  to  flatter.  The 
sermon  was  not  introduced,  as  is  usual,  by  the  annun- 
ciation of  the  text,  but  by  an  address  to  the  people, 
congratulating  them  upon  the  safe  arrival  of  the  Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States.     The  preacher  says  :  — 

'  We  now  see  this  illustrious  patriot,  like  the  father  of  a 
great  family,  visiting  its  various  branches  to  bless  and  to 
be  blessed,  to  start  the  tear  of  joy,  and  awaken  mutual  con- 
gratulations. He  comes,  —  not  attended  with  mercenary 
guards,  like  kings  and  emperors,  who  hold  their  dignity  by 
hereditary  descent,  who  ever  fear  where  no  fear  is,  —  he 
comes  not  in  the  triumph  of  military  parade,  to  show  the 
spoils  and  laurels  he  hath  won,  —  but  he  comes  triumphing 
in  the  confidence  and  affection  of  a  free  and  grateful  people, 
who,  under  God,  hail  him  as  the  deliverer  of  their  country, 
and  the  protector  of  its  liberties 

'  Too  much  respect,  that  fall  short  of  religious  homage, 
cannot  be  paid  to  one  to  whom  we  owe  so  much ;  were 
more  to  be  offered,  he  would  say,  with  the  angel  in  the 
Revelation,  "  See  thou  do  it  not !  I  am  thy  fellow-servant, 
and  of  thy  brethren  that  have  the  testimony  of  Jesus. 
Worship  God !  " 

'  Whatever  distinctions  there  may  be  among  mankind, 
however  indebted  we  may  be  to  an  earthly  benefactor,  they 
all  fade  away  before  our  Father ;  "  For  one  God  hath 
created  us  ;  there  is  none  in  the  heavens  that  may  be  com- 
pared to  him,  there  is  none  among  the  sons  of  the  mighty 
that  may  be  likened  to  Jehovah."  Permit  me,  then,  my 
friends,  to  take  occasion,  from  this  auspicious  event  of  a 
kind  Providence,  to  excite  your  expectations,  exalt  your 
conceptions,  and  solicit  your  preparation  for  the  approach 
of  that  glorious  character,  "  who  is  the  brightness  of  the 
Father's  glory,  and  the  express  image  of  his  person  ; "  who 
is  so  infinitely  exalted  that  it  is  the  crowning  excellence  of 


DEEP    REGARD    FOR    WASHINGTON.  159 

the  most  perfect  and  exalted  human  character  to  be  his 
servant  and  disciple.  This  I  shall  do  by  calling  your  atten- 
tion to  that  sublime  demand  of  the  royal  poet  :  — 

'"Lift  up  your  heads,  O  ye  gates,  and  be  ye  lifted  up, 
ye  everlasting  doors,  and  the  King  of  Glory  shall  come  in. 
Who  is  this  King  of  Glory  ?  The  Lord,  strong  and  mighty, 
the  Lord  mighty  in  battle."  ' 

The  sequel  of  the  sermon  was  an  exhortation  to 
his  hearers  to  be  prepared  for  that  great  coming  of 
Jesus,  and  to  open  the  doors  of  their  hearts  to  give 
him  entrance.  And  in  conclusion  he  said,  '  that  it 
was  the  greatest  distinction  of  their  illustrious  guest 
that  he  honored  the  Saviour,  and  rendered  homage  to 
the  Father  of  all.' 

In  as  far  as  a  man  like  him  could  permit  himself 
to  cherish  an  almost  idolatrous  affection  for  any  hu- 
man being,  Dr.  Buckminster  felt  that  affection  for 
Washington.  The  only  journey  that  he  appears  to 
have  made  while  tutor  at  New  Haven  was  to  visit 
the  camp  at  Cambridge,  —  where,  indeed,  his  uncle, 
Colonel  William  Buckminster,  was  ;  but  his  object 
appears  to  have  been  to  see  the  illustrious  man.  Of 
the  twenty-five  sermons  that  were  printed  during  his 
ministry,  six  were  devoted  to  the  character,  and  in 
public  commemoration  of  Washington.  Only  twice 
does  the  writer  remember  to  have  seen  her  father 
weep.  The  first  time  was  at  the  death  of  that  great 
man.  When  the  news  of  that  sudden  and  disastrous 
event  reached  him,  tears,  a  flood  of  tears,  impeded  his 
utterance  as  he  attempted  to  impart  the  news  to  his 
family.* 

*  It  was  his  habit  to  send  a  copy  of  his  printed  sermons  to  Wash- 
ington. These  were  always  acknowledged  by  a  letter  from  the  Presi- 
dent's own  hand. 


160  EXTRACT    FROM    DR.    PARKER's    SERMON. 

It  was  urged,  at  the  death  of  Dr.  Buckminster,  that 
the  best  legacy  that  could  be  given  to  his  parish 
would  be  a  volume  of  his  sermons.  Such  a  gift  was 
rendered  difficult  by  his  habit  of  writing  in  a  charac- 
ter, the  key  to  which  was  not  understood.  As  his 
mind  was  highly  poetical,  the  character  of  his  preach- 
ing was  discursive  rather  than  argumentative.  Scrip- 
ture biography,  especially  that  of  the  patriarchs, 
was  a  favorite  subject  for  his  sermons,  in  which  his 
vivid  imagination  entered  fully  into  the  picturesque 
Orientalism  of  their  lives  and  characters.  But  David 
was  the  Scripture  character  in  whose  poetical  and 
devotional  spirit  he  wholly  sympathized.  The  fer- 
vent piety  and  touching  humility  exhibited  in  the 
Psalms  of  David  excited  in  him  the  strongest  emotion. 
The  poetry  of  the  Scriptures  was  ever  on  his  lips, 
and  much  quoted  in  his  sermons. 

The  writer  is  painfully  aware  that,  where  the  space 
is  limited  and  the  occasion  admits  of  no  more,  de- 
tached parts  afford  but  a  very  inadequate  impression 
of  the  whole  sermon. 

Before  giving  any  extracts  from  Dr.  Buckminster's 
writings,  the  opinion  is  quoted  of  one  who  had  formed 
his  judgment  from  an  intimate  acquaintance,  and  who 
could  not  be  suspected  of  partiality. 

'  The  cliaracter  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  mind  was  strongly 
marked.  It  had  much  originality.  No  person  could  be 
conversant  with  him  without  noticing  that  strength  of  voli- 
lion  which  indicates  superiority  of  intellectual  endowment. 
His  mind  was  rapid  in  its  operations  and  impatient  of  delay. 
In  the  character  of  his  mind  he  was  qualified  for  distinction 
in  the  departments  of  elegant  literature.  Such  in  his  early 
life  was  his  taste  for  the  attractions  of  music  and  poetry,  that 


EXTRACT    FROM    DR.    PARKER's    SERMON.  161 

he  seriously  apprehended  he  should  be  drawn  from  solid 
usefulness  of  character,  to  enjoy  the  allurements  of  fancy. 
Under  this  apprehension,  he  almost  totally  abstracted  him- 
self from  his  favorite  pursuits,  and  for  Parnassus  substituted 
Mount  Zion.  In  his  sermons  and  in  his  services  as  a 
minister,  traces  of  a  playful  imagination  were  ever  visible. 
He  seemed  to  delight  to  dwell  upon  the  figurative  language 
and  the  rich  imagery  of  Scripture,  and  to  adorn  the  solemn 
truths   of   religion  with   all    the   ornament  that  the   sacred 

classics  could  supply 

'  His  sermons  were  not  labored  by  art.  His  mind  was 
not  accustomed  to  the  regular  management  of  argumenta- 
tive discourse.  It  was  impatient  of  the  forms  of  close 
investigation  and  systematic  reasoning.  It  glanced  with 
rapidity  from  one  subject  to  another,  and  when  truth  was 
discovered  he  was  eager  to  give  to  it  a  practical  effect. 
His  discourses,  therefore,  were  often  rather  a  collection  of 
truths  and  exhortations  deemed  important  and  useful,  than 
a  systematic  arrangement  of  arguments  and  thoughts  upon 
any  particular  subject.'  * 

It  may  be  added,  that  the  effect  of  his  preaching 
was  to  produce  emotion,  rather  than  conviction. 
Emotion  is  necessarily  transient  ;  and,  although  he 
was  one  of  the  most  eloquent  of  the  Orthodox  per- 
suasion, there  was  no  revival  in  his  parish  during  his 
ministry. 

The  first  of  his  sermons  that  was  given  to  the 
public  was  upon  the  occasion  of  the  National  Thanks- 
giving, appointed  by  Congress,  December  11th,  1783, 
after  the  ratification  of  the  treaty  of  peace  with 
Great  Britain.  It  is  remarkable  for  a  eulogy  upon 
Louis  the  Sixteenth,  '  who,  while  Protestant  powers 

*  From  Dr.  Parker's  Funeral  Sermon. 
14* 


162  DR.  buckminster's  sermons. 

stood  aloof  from  our  aid,  and,  like  the  priest  and 
the  Levite,  passed  over  on  the  other  side,  like  the 
good  Samaritan,  rose  to  our  assistance  ;  and,  as  a 
second  Cyrus,  offered  his  aid  for  securing  our  lib- 
erties.' 

The  next  of  his  sermons  which  was  printed  was 
after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Porter,  of  Rye,  the  wife  of 
one  of  his  brethren  of  the  Piscataqua  Association. 
She  was  a  lady  of  remarkable  loveliness  of  person 
and  character  ;  and  as  she  died  soon  after  the  death 
of  his  own  first  wife,  similarity  of  circumstances,  and 
sympathy  of  feeling  under  the  same  bereavement, 
produced  utterances  of  peculiar  tenderness  and  elo- 
quence. 

Of  the  extracts  that  follow,  the  first  is  from  a 
sermon  preached  February  22d,  ISOO,  —  the  day 
appointed  by  Congress  to  commemorate  the  death  of 
Washington.  The  North  and  South  Parishes  united 
upon  this  occasion,  and,  as  it  was  not  the  Sabbath, 
the  sermon  has  more  of  a  political  aspect  than  is  usual. 
The  theme  of  the  discourse  is,  that  'religion  and 
righteousness,  or  justice,  are  the  basis  of  national 
honor  and  prosperity.' 

'  Let  us  strive  to  preserve  that  American  veneration  for 
God  and  his  judgments,  and  a  practical  regard  to  that 
glorious  system  of  truth  and  duty  which  he  has  given  us. 
This  will  be  our  wisdom  and  understanding  ;  this  will  be 
the  means  of  our  renown  among  the  nations  of  the  earth  ; 
and,  what  is  far  more,  it  will  secure  to  the  institutions 
of  our  young  republic  a  stability  and  permanency  by  the 
blessing  of  Him,  whose  it  is  to  make  great  and  give 
strength  unto  all. 


ON    PARTY    SPIRIT,  K)3 

'  May  we  not  be  encouraged  to  this  duty  by  the  fond,  and 
not,  I  believe,  enthusiastic  hope,  that  God  designs  America 
as  the  honored  and  happy  instrument  of  extending  the 
banners  of  truth  and  freedom,  and  of  placing  a  barrier 
against  the  flood  of  infidelity  that  has  deluged  so  great  a 
part  of  the  Old  World  ?  Do  not  the  views  and  principles 
with  which  this  country  was  settled,  its  situation  with 
respect  to  the  nations  of  Europe,  the  remarkable  dispensa- 
tions of  Heaven  in  reference  to  its  religious  as  well  as 
political  interests,  give  rational  ground  for  this  hope  ? 
Without  a  prevalence  of  virtue  and  justice,  republics  cannot 
exist ;  without  religion,  virtue  cannot  prevail  ;  and  no 
religion  affords  so  firm  a  basis,  or  exhibits  such  animating 
motives  to  a  manly  virtue,  as  that  which  brings  life  and 
immortality  to  light,  and  holds  forth  rewards  and  punish- 
ments stamped  with  eternity.  If  we  retain  any  reverence 
for  revelation,  we  must  believe  that  God  will  preserve  his 
Church  in  the  world.  He  may  remove  it  from  one  place, 
but  it  shall  be  firm  in  another.  The  gates  of  hell  shall 
not  prevail  against  it.  "  The  kings  of  the  earth  may  set 
themselves,  and  the  rulers  take  counsel  together,  against 
the  Lord  and  against  his  anointed,"  but,  in  the  sublime 
language  of  Scripture,  "  He  that  shteth  in  the  heavens  will 
laugh,  the  Lord  shall  have  them  in  derision  ;  then  shall 
he  speak  to  them  in  his  wrath,  and  vex  them  in  his  hot 
displeasure."  From  these  considerations,  may  not  the 
friend  of  religion,  of  good  order,  of  liberty,  encourage  a 
rational  hope  that  God  will  yet  maintain  his  throne  among 
us,  and  display  his  banner,  because  of  truth  ?  And  may 
not  every  such  true  patriot  be  encouraged  in  every  rational 
exertion  to  revive  a  practical  regard  "  to  all  those  disposi- 
tions and  habits  which  lead  to  political  prosperity,  of  which 
religion  and  morality  are  indispensable  supports  ?  " 

'  Let  it  not  be  thought  a  vain  repetition  if  I  again  exhort 
my  enlightened  and  reflecting  fellow-citizens  to  soften  all 
their  unpleasant  feelings,  and  merge  all  their  party  views  in 


164  ON    PATRIOTISM. 

a  united  veneration  for  God  and  his  government,  and  in  a 
conscientious  and  exemplary  observance  of  his  laws  and 
institutions.  Thus  shall  we  prove,  that,  though  we  are  men, 
and  liable  to  err,  under  the  impressions  to  which  humanity- 
is  subject,  yet  we  are  indeed  the  friends  of  our  country, 
and  ready  to  do  every  thing  in  our  power  to  secure  to  it  the 
shield  and  benediction  of  Him  who  can  make  a  little  one 
to  become  a  thousand,  and  a  small  one  a  strong  nation. 

'  If  there  is  any  confidence  to  be  placed  in  the  deductions 
of  reason,  or  any  credit  to  be  given  to  the  declarations  of 
Scripture,  we  learn  from  these  remarks  who  are  the  true 
friends  of  our  country,  and  the  means  of  securing,  to  it 
national  honor  and  prosperity.  The  true  friends  of  our 
country  are  those  who  rationally  and  devoutly  reverence, 
adore,  and  fear  God,  and  keep  his  righteous  judgments  and 
conscientiously  walk  in  his  statutes  and  ordinances.  I 
would  not  be  understood  to  insinuate  that  contemners  of 
religious  duties,  and  even  men  void  of  religious  principle, 
may  not  have  an  attachment  to  their  country  and  a  desire 
for  its  civil  and  political  prosperity  ;  nay,  they  may  even 
expose  themselves  to  great  dangers  and  make  great  sacri- 
fices to  accomplish  this  object ;  but  by  their  impiety  they 
weaken  the  energy  of  those  inspiring  principles  that  serve 
to  ennoble,  invigorate,  and  enlarge  the  public  mind,  and 
introduce  principles  that  enervate  and  corrupt  public  senti- 
ment. They  take  away  the  heavenly  defence  and  security 
of  a  people,  and  render  it  necessary  for  Him  who  ruleth 
among  the  nations  by  righteous  things  in  judgment,  to 
testify  his  displeasure  against  those  who  despise  his  laws 
and  contemn  his  ordinances.  In  the  present  state  of  the 
world,  fleets  and  armies  are  necessary  means  of  security 
and  defence  ;  but  they  will  eventually  prove  a  broken  reed 
to  the  nation  that  despises  the  God  of  armies,  and  pours 
contempt  upon  his  authority.  There  is  no  counsel,  under- 
standing, or  might  against  the  Lord.  The  true  fearer  of 
God  and  worker  of  righteousness  is  the  truest  friend  of  his 


ON    PATRIOTISM.  163 

country,  and  the  means  of  her  defence  ;  and  when  such  is 
the  character  of  the  rulers  of  any  country,  her  renown  will 
go  forth  among  the  nations,  and  she  may  look  for  national 
honor  and  prosperity. 

'  This  suhject  directs  the  honest,  independent,  and  patri- 
otic citizen  in  the  exercise  of  his  high  birthright  as  a 
freeman,  in  giving  his  suffrage  for  civil  rulers.  This, 
though  a  natural  right  of  man,  is  enjoyed  but  by  a  very 
small  portion  of  our  race.  They  who  arc  distinguished  by 
this  high  privilege  ought  to  honor  themselves  by  an  honest 
and  dignified  exercise  of  it,  and  not  carelessly  despise  their 
birthright,  much  less  sell  it  at  a  less  premium  than  a  mess 
of  pottage,  to  answer  the  party  purposes  of  ambition,  or 
pride,  envy,  or  any  other  low  passion. 

'  The  character  of  a  nation,  then,  my  friends,  is  decided 
by  the  character  of  its  rulers,  especially  in  a  free  and 
elective  government.  If  the  rulers  of  a  people  are  men  of 
principle,  who  fear  God  and  own  his  statutes,  the  nation 
will  be  regarded  in  this  approving  light  by  Him  who 
superintends  the  affairs  of  nations.  Every  friend  to  his 
country,  in  the  choice  of  its  civil  rulers,  should  have  his 
eye  upon  the  faithful  of  the  land,  —  upon  such  as  fear  God. 
It  is  to  be  expected,  other  things  being  equal,  that  we  should 
give  our  suffrages  for  men  whose  political  views  accord 
with  our  own  ;  yet  scarcely  could  that  man  vindicate  his 
claim  to  the  meed  of  patriotism  who  should  give  his  suffrage 
to  a  man,  who  had  no  other  claim  to  the  dignified  station 
of  a  civil  ruler,  or  who  was  destitute  of  the  commanding 
influence  of  religious  principle.'' 

A  sermon  which  he  preached  before  the  general 
election,  February  2Sth,  1796,  upon  the  duty  of 
republican  citizens  in  the  choice  of  their  rulers,  from 
the  text,  '  Mine  eyes  shall  be  upon  the  faithful  of  the 
land,'  drew  forth  very  severe  animadversions  from 
some  person  of  the  Democratic  party,  in  an  anony- 


166  ON    DOMESTIC    VIRTUES. 

mous  pamphlet.  Although  many  of  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster's  published  sermons  are  occasional,  and  upon 
subjects  of  public  and  political  interest,  those  of  a 
domestic  character  have  a  more  tender  and  intimate 
reference  to  life. 

A  sermon  upon  domestic  contentment,  from  the 
text,  '  Better  is  a  dinner  of  herbs  where  love  is,  than 
a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith,'  Pro  v.  xv.  17,  was 
printed,  at  the  request  of  the  young  unmarried  men 
of  Portsmouth,  to  whom  the  doctrine  of  the  discourse 
was  peculiarly  comfortable.  The  extracts  that  follow 
are  from  a  sermon,  also  of  a  domestic  character, 
preached  at  the  ordination  of  Rev.  James  Thurston, 
at  Manchester,  1809. 

' "  Jesus   loved    Martha,  and  her    sister,   and   Lazarus 
John  xi.  5. 

'  There  are  Christians  of  different  degrees  of  amiableness, 
age,  and  stature.  In  this  family,  which  was  the  object  of 
our  Saviour's  special  affection,  there  was  a  striking  variety 
of  disposition.     They  are  described  by  an  able  pen. 

'  Of  Lazarus  much  is  not  said.  He  seems  to  have  been 
a  serious,  solid,  established  professor  of  religion  ;  but  the 
two  sisters  are  more  sti'ongly  marked,  —  more  minutely 
characterized.  Mary,  it  is  probable,  had  lately  been  called. 
She  was  full  of  those  pleasing,  but  often  transient,  emotions 
which  generally  accompany  the  beginning  of  the  Christian 
life.  Wondering  at  the  gracious  words  that  proceeded  out 
of  bis  mouth,  she  sat  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The  reverse  of 
all  this  was  the  defect  of  Martha.  She  was  anxious  and 
eager.  She  was  susceptible  of  domestic  vanity,  and  there- 
fore too  fond  of  parade  and  expensive  entertainments,  — 
cumbered  about  much  serving.  She  was  also  fretful,  and, 
by  the  loss  of  temper,  betrayed  into  such  indiscretion  as  to 
break  in  upon  our  Saviour's  discourse,  to  complain  to  him 
of    her    sister's   negligence,    and    bring    upon   herself    his 


ON    CHRISTIAN    CHARACTER.  167 

friendly  reproof.  Yet  Jesus  loved  Martha  as  well  as  Mary. 
He  knew  her  frame  ;  he  saw  kindness  reigned  in  her  heart, 
and  that  she  was  no  less  attached  to  him  than  her  sister, 
though  she  had  mistaken  the  best,  the  most  acceptable  way 
of  expressing  it. 

'  Religion,  though  divine  and  perfect  in  its  origin  and 
tendency,  is  human  in  its  residence,  and  in  its  exercises 
it  receives  a  tinge  and  complexion  from  the  region  that  it 
occupies.  If  we  withhold  Christian  affection  till  we  find 
perfect  characters,  the  world  must  ever  want  that  evidence, 
by  which,  according  to  our  Saviour's  directions,  they  are  to 
be  assisted  in  discerning  his  real  disciples.  And  should  we 
not  blush  to  demand  what  nothing  but  ignorance  of  our- 
selves could  prevent  our  knowing  that  we  could  not  proffer 
in  return  ?  The  reality  of  religion  is  not  determined  by 
the  perfection,  but  the  sincerity,  of  its  subjects.  The  best 
of  men  are  at  best  but  men.  The  most  advanced  Christian 
is  sanctified  but  in  part ;  and  he  who  pretends  to  perfection 
is,  by  the  highest  authority,  pronounced  perverse.  Yet  we 
are  not  making  an  apology  for  sin.  There  is  an  essential 
difference  of  character  between  him  who  hath  tasted  that 
the  Lord  is  gracious,  who  hath  received  Christ  and  believed 
in  him,  and  he  whose  spiritual  senses  have  never  been 
exercised  to  discern  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  The 
former  hates  sin  and  loves  holiness ;  he  is  dead  to  sin,  and 
alive  to  righteousness.  He  delights  in  the  law  of  the  Lord 
after  the  inner  man.  He  receives  with  meekness  the 
reproofs  of  wisdom,  and  tests  his  character  by  repentance 
and  reformation.  If  we  do  not  embrace  such  characters, 
with  all  their  infirmities,  in  the  arms  of  Christian  charity, 
we  neither  ifnitate  our  Master  nor  respect  his  directions. 
He  despises  not  the  day  of  small  things.  The  bruised  reed 
he  does  not  break.  He  gathers  the  lambs  in  his  arms,  and 
carries  them  in  his  bosom,  and  succors  and  defends  the 
most  helpless  of  the  flock.  He  commands  those  that  are 
strong  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  not  to  please 
themselves  ;  to  be  tender  and  pitiful ;  to  receive  him  who 


168  ON    FRIENDSHIPS. 

is  weak  in  virtue,  and  not  perplex  him  with  doubtful 
disputations.  The  Christian  minister  should  cherish  this 
disposition  towards  all  the  lambs  and  sheep  of  the  fold, 
but  it  may  be  diversified  in  its  exercise  by  all  the  various 
circumstances  and  characters  of  his  people.  "  Jesus  loved 
Martha,  and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus." 

'  In  this  trait  in  our  Saviour's  character  and  ministry, 
we  find  an  apology  for  what  is  often  imputed  to  ministers  as 
a  fault.  I  mean  a  particularity,  or  what  is  called  partiality, 
in  our  friendships  and  affections.  Few  ministers  escape 
this  charge,  and  fewer,  perhaps,  are  free  from  deserving  it ; 
but  the  history  of  our  Saviour  certainly  excuses  and  justifies 
a  kind  and  degree  of  partiality.  While  a  minister  is  ready 
for  every  office  of  ministerial  duty,  and  has  a  disinterested 
concern  for  all  his  people,  and  a  Christian  affection  for  such 
as  wear  the  livery  of  Christ,  he  is  not  bound  to  receive  all 
to  equal  intimacy,  but  may  choose  those  who  shall  share  his 
more  especial  friendship  and  confidence.  Jesus,  doubtless, 
had  a  sincere  affection  for  all  the  Apostles,  yet  John  is  dis- 
tinguished as  the  disciple  whom  he  preeminently  loved  ;  and 
he  gave  him,  both  living  and  dying,  marked  tokens  of  his 
tender  affection  and  confidence.  John  not  only  sat  next  him 
at  meat,  but  leaned  on  his  bosom.  And,  when  hanging  on 
the  cross,  Christ  said  to  this  disciple,  "  Behold  thy  mother ! 
and  to  her,  Behold  thy  son  !  and  from  that  time  this  disciple 
took  her  to  his  own  home." 

'  Jesus  was  kind  and  attentive  to  all  his  followers,  but 
this  family  in  Bethany  seems  to  have  been  the  place  of  his 
frequent  and  most  delightful  resort.  It  is  but  just,  however, 
to  remark,  that  the  ground  of  this  preference  and  delight 
seems  to  be  altogether  laid  in  religion,  and  to  be  cemented 
by  their  spiritual  improvement,  and  their  delight  in  the 
company  and  conversation  of  the  Saviour.  If  this  be  the 
discriminating  line  of  our  partialities,  and  we  give  the 
preference  to  scenes  and  circles  where  our  appropriate 
duties  and  services  are  most  acceptable,  though  partiality  be 
imputed  to  us,  we  shall  suffer  little  by  the  imputation.     But 


KELIGIOTJS    ENJOYMENT.  1C9 

if  our  preferences  are  influenced  by  a  worldly  spirit ;  if  the 
circles  of  amusement,  of  social  pleasure,  or  animal  indul- 
gence command  our  choice,  and  we  have  men's  persons  in 
admiration  because  of  selfish  advantage,  we  shall  find  noth- 
ing in  the  life  or  example  of  our  Saviour  to  give  us  coun- 
tenance or  excuse  ;  nor  will  it  be  easy  to  shield  ourselves 
from  reflections  upon  the  genuineness  of  our  afliection,  or  the 
purity  of  our  zeal. 

'  But  did  not  the  Saviour,  it  may  be  asked,  attend  festival 
occasions  ?  Did  he  not  sup  with  the  rich  and  honorable  ? 
Assuredly  ;  and  so  may  we.  We  are  not  to  go  out  of  the 
world,  because  we  are  not  of  it.  Happy  will  it  be  for  us,  if, 
on  these  occasions,  which  duty  and  decorum  call  us  to  at- 
tend, we  can  so  have  the  example  of  Christ  shedding  its 
influence  upon  us,  that  we  may  catch  some  favorable  mo- 
ment to  say  something  for  his  honor  and  the  edification  of 
our  friends.  Though  Jesus  did  not  decline  nor  refuse  these 
occasions  of  festivity  when  they  fell  in  his  way,  yet  candor 
will  acknowledge  that  he  never  coveted  them,  and  that  he 
ever  converted  them  into  purposes  of  religious  and  moral 
instruction.  The  bosom  of  his  beloved  family,  the  retreat 
at  Bethany,  had  far  superior  delights  for  Christ.  And  the 
Christian  minister  in  the  retired  circle  of  Christian  friends, 
familiarly  conversing  and  explaining  the  things  of  the  king- 
dom, will  think  with  more  satisfaction  upon  the  example  of 
his  Master,  than  when  mingling  in  the  common  resorts  of 
men,  hearing  or  telling  something  new,  or  joining  scenes  of 
hilarity  and  amusement.  "  Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her 
sister,  and  Lazarus,"  and  he  expressed  this  distinguishing 
affection  by  his  familiar  visits.' 

Near    the    conclusion    of    the    sermon,    he    thus 
speaks  :  — 

'  From  the  tenor  of  this  discourse,  my  Christian  friends, 
you  will  conclude    that  I  entertain  fears   that   the  private, 
15 


170  ON    PASTORAL    INTERCOURSE. 

social  duties  of  our  profession,  the  minor  concerns  of  our 
office,  command  too  little  of  our  attention.  If  I  mistake,  or 
if  the  defects  of  one  place  do  not  apply  to  another,  forgive 
me  this  wrong.  But  the  general  genius  and  taste  of  the 
present  day  for  extravagant  pleasures,  —  the  prevalence  of  a 
love  for  elegance,  splendor,  and  refinement,  for  literary  dis- 
tinction and  pulpit  eloquence,  —  increase  my  suspicions. 
These  ousht  to  have  their  weight,  and  a  share  of  our  atten- 
tion  ;  but  if  the  interviews  with  our  people  be  suspended,  or 
lose  their  religious  cast  and  complexion,  our  people  will  lose 
a  great  part  of  the  benefit  of  our  public  instruction,  which, 
like  seed  unwatched  and  unwatered,  will  yield  but  a  scanty 
harvest.  Is  not  private  visiting  the  principal  engine  of  sec- 
tarian success  }  Wandering  from  house  to  house,  filled  with 
zeal  for  their  peculiar  principles  and  practices,  they  make  them 
the  subject  of  serious  and  familiar  conversation  in  all  fam- 
ilies and  circles  that  will  listen  to  them  ;  accompanying  their 
instructions  with  great  fervor  of  devotion  and  warm  expres- 
sions of  kindness  for  those  who  will  join  them.  The  tender 
and  thoughtful  receive  this  spirit  of  proselytism  as  the  spirit 
of  real  religion,  and  thus  they  are  seduced  and  led  away 
from  the  footsteps  of  that  flock  which  has  belonged  to  the 
fold  of  Christ  since  the  days  of  the  Reformation.' 

We  must  indulge  ourselves  with  one  more  extract, 
which  shows  the  Christian  liberality  and  the  catholic 
spirit  of  Dr.  Buckminster.  It  is  from  a  sermon, 
preached  at  a  time  of  great  sectarian  zeal,  respecting 
the  Baptists. 

'  The  unity  of  the  Church  does  not  consist  in  a  unity  of 
sentiment  upon  points  of  doctrine,  much  less  in  uniformity 
of  worship  or  modes  of  administering  its  ordinances  ;  but 
the  unity  of  the  Church  consists  in  receiving  and  acknowl- 
edging Christ  as  its  head,  and  submitting  to  all  that  we  in 
conscience  believe  he  has  enjoined,  —  in  partaking  of  his 


ON    CHRISTIAN    ITNITY.  171 

spirit,  so  that  sin  is  confessed,  forsaken,  and  abhorred,  and 
hoHness  loved  and  pursued.  Does  not  the  Apostle  support 
this  sentiment,  when  he  exhorts  "  to  keep  the  unity  of  the 
spirit  in  the  bond  of  peace"?  All  real  Christians,  doubt- 
less, agree  in  certain  great  leading  points  of  doctrine  ;  but 
they  may  differ  widely  in  their  mode  of  explaining  and  en- 
forcing them.  "  They  have  all  drunk  into  the  same  spirit," 
and  are  the  subjects  of  similar  exercises  and  affections ;  but 
they  may  worship  in  very  different  forms,  and  have  various 
opinions  upon  the  rites  and  institutions  of  religion.  We 
should  therefore  be  careful  that  our  zeal  for  the  unity  of  the 
Church  does  not  weaken  its  energy  or  destroy  its  beauty, 
and  that  our  attachment  to  the  mere  form  of  administering 
instituted  rites  be  not  carried  so  far  as  to  obstruct  the  en- 
largement of  the  Church. 

'  It  is  scarcely  more  reasonable  to  expect  that  men  should 
be  perfectly  harmonious  in  religion,  than  in  any  other  mat- 
ter that  interests  and  affects  their  passions.  Considering 
their  different  capacities,  advantages,  modes  of  education» 
habits  of  thinking,  and  prejudices  from  various  sources,  it  is 
to  be  expected  that  they  should  have  different  views  of  truth 
and  duty.  And  in  the  enjoyment  of  that  extensive  religious 
liberty  with  which  this  happy  land  is  favored,  and  the  uni- 
versal toleration  of  all  sects,  it  is  to  be  expected  that  differ- 
ent denominations  should  multiply  among  us,  and  support 
themselves  with  a  zeal  that  is  usually  attendant  upon  novelty, 
and  on  a  separation  from  long  established  principles  and 
forms.  When  success  attends  these,  and  they  spread  and 
increase,  other  denominations  are  apt  to  kindle  with  the  fire 
of  envy  and  jealousy,  and  to  cherish  a  disposition  to  forbid 
and  suppress  them.  But  the  instruction  of  our  Master  is, 
"  Forbid  them  not."  If  they  acknowledge  Christ  as  their 
Lord  and  Master,  and  partake  of  his  spirit,  rejoice  in  the 
good  that  is  done,  whatever  irregularities  attend  the  doing  of 
it.  Every  enlightened  Christian  is  fully  persuaded  in  his 
own  mind  that  the  way  in  which  he  worships  God  is  most 


172  EXTEMPORANEOUS    PREACHING. 

agreeable  to  his  revealed  will  ;  but  he  is  not  to  denounce 
those  who  differ  from  him,  nor  think  that  they  cannot  be 
accepted  of  God,  while  they  conscientiously  worship  accord- 
ing to  the  light  and  understanding  they  have  ;  nor  should 
they  refuse  to  such  the  tokens  of  Christian  fellowship,  nor 
forbid  their  exertions  to  promote  the  common  cause  of 
Christianity.' 

The  extracts  which  have  been  given  from  Dr. 
Biickminster's  sermons  may  hardly  be  thought  to 
justify  or  to  account  for  the  popnlarity  which  usually 
accompanied  and  followed  his  preaching  ;  or  to  bear 
out  the  assertion  made  by  a  surviving  member  of  the 
Piscataqua  Association,  that  the  associate  at  whose 
house  the  ministers  assembled  more  frequently  selected 
him  to  preach  than  any  other,  and  that  he  was  always 
admired  by  the  people.  In  answer  it  may  be  said, 
that,  as  his  manuscript  sermons  were  written  in  a 
short  hand  now  impossible  to  decipher,  the  selections 
could  only  be  made  from  his  printed  sermons ;  that 
these  were  upon  political  subjects,  or  upon  occasions 
which  did  not  admit  of  that  spontaneous  and  impas- 
sioned eloquence  for  which  he  was  most  admired  in 
the  village  pulpits.  His  habit  was,  at  the  close  of  his 
sermon,  when  he  was  thoroughly  imbued  with  his 
subject,  to  throw  his  notes  aside,  and  give  way  to 
that  spontaneous  flow  of  thought  which  gushed  up 
from  his  ardent  soul.  This  led  to  impassioned  ap- 
peals to  the  conscience,  to  the  hopes  and  the  fears,  of 
his  audience.  In  his  printed  sermons  there  are  few 
traces  of  that  vivid  imagination  and  ardent  tempera- 
ment which  distinguished  his  extemporaneous  per- 
formances. 

Connected  with  his  public   ministrations  was  the 


LOVE    OF    MUSIC.  173 

deep  interest  he  took  in  the  musical  part  of  the  wor- 
ship of  the  Sabbath.  Almost  his  only  recreation  was 
the  promotion  of  the  singing  of  his  society.  For 
this  purpose  the  choir  were  very  frequently  invited  to 
meet  at  his  house.  There  was  a  large  room  in  the 
parsonage,  originally  intended  for  private  lectures; 
but  as  Dr.  Buckminster  never  held  these  in  his  own 
house,  the  room  was  rarely  opened  except  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  singers,  and  he  was  exhilarated 
and  delighted  when  there  was  a  full  choir,  and  a  tune 
or  an  anthem  was  well  performed. 

In  relation  to  this  subject,  a  characteristic  anecdote 
is  told  of  him.  Musicians  are  proverbially  sensitive, 
easily  wounded,  and  apt  to  take  otfence.  Upon  one 
occasion,  the  pastor,  or  the  singers,  or  the  parish,  had 
unconsciously  given  offence,  and  the  whole  choir  de- 
serted at  once,  without  the  least  intimation  of  their 
purpose,  leaving  the  seats  empty  on  Sunday  morning. 
After  reading  the  hymn  as  usual,  and  finding  no  voice 
raised,  he  stepped  again  into  the  speaker's  desk,  and 
began  to  sing  alone.  His  voice  was  of  a  peculiarly 
sweet  and  silvery  tone,  and  thrilled  through  the 
whole  building,  and  touched  every  heart.  He  sang 
the  whole  of  the  first  stanza  alone,  but  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  second  some  timid  voices  were  heard 
joining  in  from  different  parts  of  the  audience  ;  one 
after  another  the  voices  were  tuned,  and  before  the 
hymn  was  finished  the  whole  congregation  united  in 
one  burst  of  music.  It  was  remarked  that  the  sing- 
ing had  never  been  so  agreeable,  and  that  the  society 
could  dispense  with  the  services  of  the  choir.  The 
next  Sunday  all  were  in  their  places,  and,  it  is 
15* 


174  YELLOW-FEVER  IN  PORTSMOUTH. 

believed,  with  no  explanation  and  no  complaint  from 
the  pastor. 

During  these  years  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  ministry, 
events  and  circumstances  touching  more  intimately 
his  private  ministerial  duties  took  place.  In  the 
months  of  August  and  September,  1798,  a  putrid  ma- 
lignant fever,  like  the  yellow-fever  of  Philadelphia 
and  New  Orleans,  prevailed  in  Portsmouth.  It  was 
confined  to  the  part  of  the  town  where  most  of  the 
members  of  the  North  parish  dwelt,  and  many  of  his 
most  valued  parishioners  were  attacked.  Consterna- 
tion and  terror  prevailed  throughout  the  town,  and 
numerous  families  rushed  into  the  neighboring  vil- 
lages, as  they  did  formerly  from  the  plague  in  Lon- 
don. In  the  course  of  less  than  three  months  one 
hundred  and  seven  persons  died  in  a  population  of 
about  five  thousand.  In  the  midst  of  the  universal 
dismay,  the  physicians  of  the  town  were  stricken 
down  by  the  disease.  My  father  remained  with 
his  family,  and  used  every  proper  means  to  pre- 
vent the  calamity  from  spreading.  He  was  always, 
from  early  morning  to  midnight,  among  the  sick, 
serving  and  watching,  performing  the  part  of  phy- 
sician and  nurse,  as  well  as  that  of  spiritual  comforter. 
Often,  in  one  day,  after  having  spent  the  night  with 
the  afflicted,  and  closing  the  eyes  of  the  dying,  he 
was  obliged  to  array  the  dead  in  the  garments  of  the 
tomb,  to  accompany  them  to  their  last  resting-place, 
and  to  speak  words  of  comfort  and  peace  to  sorrow- 
ing and  trembling  relatives.  From  thence  he  re- 
turned wearied  and  exhausted  to  his  family  ;  but  not 
till  he  had  changed  every  garment,  and  submitted  to 


YELLOW-FEVER    IN    PORTSMOUTH.  175 

the  processes  for  counteracting  contagion.  His  meet- 
ing-house was  not  closed,  as  was  the  case  with  many 
others  ;  he  preached  every  Sunday,  and  devoted 
every  other  hour  to  his  sick  and  dying  friends,  of 
whom  some  were  among  the  most  valuable  of  his 
parishioners  ;  but  his  own  family,  with  himself, 
escaped  all  illness. 

Until  after  his  death  there  was  no  division  between 
the  Congregational  churches  of  Portsmouth.  The 
epithets  Orthodox  and  Liberal,  Calvinist  and  Uni- 
tarian, were  unknown  between  them.  Not  the  most 
remote  insinuation  is  intended  that  the  former  state  of 
things  was  better  than  the  present,  for  though  union 
is  better  than  disunion,  '  disunion  may  indicate  a 
better  state  of  things  than  is  indicated  by  concord.' 
Perhaps  it  may  be  mentioned,  as  an  unusual  act  of 
liberality  in  another  denomination,  that  the  members 
of  the  Episcopal  society,  the  day  after  the  fire  that 
consumed  St.  John's  Church,  met  in  Dr.  Buck- 
minster's  meeting-house.  It  was  Christmas  day,  and 
they  were  without  a  Rector.  The  service  was  read  by 
one  of  their  own  number,  and  my  father  preached 
from  the  words,  '  Our  holy  and  our  beautiful  house, 
where  our  fathers  worshipped  thee,  is  burnt  up  with 
fire.'  His  sermon,  from  its  sympathy  and  appro- 
priateness, gave  great  satisfaction.  There  were  other 
Christmas  days  when  this  church  was  without  a 
Rector  that  he  was  invited  to  preach,  and  the  liber- 
ality that  asked  and  the  courtesy  that  answered  the 
demand  were  mutual. 

In  the  mean  time  there  were  divisions  in  another 
form  which  gave  him  much  pain  and  perplexity. 
About  the  beginning  of  the  century  a  zealous  and 


176  DR.    BUCKMINSTER    IN    CONTROVERSY 

effective,  but  very  violent,  Baptist  preacher  came  to 
Portsmouth,  and  made  a  strong  impression  there, 
dividing  the  congregations  and  taking  from  Dr.  Buck- 
minster's  society  some  of  his  most  vahiable  friends 
and  church-members.  The  two  divines  entered  into 
a  written  controversy  upon  the  subject  of  adult  and 
infant  baptism,  each  supporting  his  side  of  the  argu- 
ment with  ability.  At  the  close  of  the  controversy, 
Dr.  Buckminster  preached  three  sermons  upon  the 
subject,  which  were  printed,  from  one  of  which  ser- 
mons an  extract  appears  upon  a  preceding  page. 

Such  an  experience  is  one  of  the  severest  trials  to 
which  a  sensitive  and  conscientious  minister  can  be 
subjected.  It  requires  truly  Christian  liberality,  and 
a  catholic  spirit  which  rejoices  in  good,  however 
done,  to  see  those  for  whose  welfare  he  has  earnestly 
labored  turn  from  him  after  years  of  friendship,  —  to 
see  the  tender  seeds  of  piety  spring  up  and  ripen  in 
hearts  that  he  has  watched  and  guarded  for  many 
years,  and,  just  as  the  fruit  is  ready  to  be  gathered, 
one  who  has  neither  sown  nor  watered  come  in  and 
reap  the  harvest. 

The  extracts  which  have  been  given  from  his  ser- 
mons are  a  very  inadequate  and  imperfect  representa- 
tion of  Dr.  Buckminster's  power  in  the  pulpit.  The 
pathos  of  his  voice,  his  earnestness  of  expression  in 
the  beseeching  appeals  to  the  heart  and  conscience, 
uttered  with  a  power  that  would  have  spread  terror 
in  the  audience,  if  they  had  not  been  immediately 
succeeded  by  pathetic  entreaty  to  come  to  the  foun- 
tain of  refreshing  waters,  and  to  seek  mercy  from 
Him  who  is  ready  to  save,  cannot  be  represented  by 
any  description.     His   appeals   to   the   audience   re- 


WITH    THE    BAPTIST    DENOMINATION.  177 

minded  one  of  eloquent  passages  in  the  sermons  of 
Bossuet.  To  borrow  the  words  of  a  contemporary, 
—  '  It  was  no  compliment  to  him  to  say  that  his 
preaching  was  eagerly  sought  by  the  parishes  in 
neighboring  villages.  When  it  was  known  that  he 
was  expected  to  preach,  no  weather,  however  tem- 
pestuous, and  no  distance,  however  great,  would  keep 
the  farmers'  families  from  the  Sabbath  worship.  The 
village  meeting-house  was  crowded  with  a  rapt  and 
eager  audience.  Old  people  shed  tears  when  they 
recollected  and  mentioned  sermons  they  had  heard 
from  him  in  his  youth,  and  hymns  that  he  had  read 
with  peculiar  pathos  were  cherished  in  the  memory 
and  repeated  many  years  afterwards.  His  prayers 
were  spoken  of  by  the  aged  as  having  comforted  and 
raised  the  spirit  far  above  the  cares  of  earth  ;  they 
brought  conviction  to  the  sinner,  peace  to  the  con- 
trite, and  a  soothing  tranquillity  to  the  mourning 
heart.' 

In  speaking  of  my  father's  ministerial  gifts,  I 
have  quoted  the  opinions  of  contemporaries,  and 
relied  upon  the  representations  of  others.  A  letter 
from  the  Hon.  Daniel  Webster,  who  was,  during  his 
residence  in  Portsmouth,  a  member  of  his  church  and 
a  constant  attendant  upon  his  preaching,  speaks  of 
him  thus  :  —  'Of  your  father,  his  power  and  elo- 
quence, his  appearance  in  and  out  of'  the  pulpit,  his 
graceful  mariners,  his  agreeable  social  habits,  the  fer- 
vor and  glow  of  his  pulpit  performances,  I  have  a 
most  lively  and  distinct  recollection.' 

Another,*  the  venerable  survivor  of  the  Piscataqua 

*  Rev.  Jonathan  French,  of  North  Hampton,  N.  H. 


178  LETTER    OF    REV.    MR.    FRENCH, 

Association  of  Ministers  of  Dr.  Buckminster's  time, 
speaks  of  him  in  the  following  manner  :  — 

'  I  revered  and  loved  him.  His  memory  is  veiy  precious 
to  me.  But  you  will  need  nothing  from  my  recollections  in 
describing  his  noble  person,  his  frank,  intelligent,  dignified, 
kind,  and  cheerful  countenance,  his  unaffected  and  engaging 
manners,  his  purity  and  stability  of  character,  his  unvarying 
uprightness,  his  fidelity  in  the  performance  of  his  Christian 
and  ministei'ial  duties,  and  the  habitual  life  of  piety  which 
in  him  was  always  apparent. 

'  He  stood  very  high  in  the  opinion  and  affections  of  the 
Piscataqua  Association.  With  nothing  in  his  deportment 
which  savored  of  self-seeking,  he  was  venerated  and  be- 
loved by  his  brethren,  and  admired  by  their  people.  At  a 
period  when  ministers  of  the  Association  selected  for  them- 
selves the  preachers  for  their  several  public  occasional 
meetings.  Dr.  Buckminster  oftener  than  any  of  his  brethren 
was  called  upon  to  preach.  I  heard  him  frequently,  and  on 
various  subjects.  The  matter  and  the  manner  of  his  dis- 
courses were  always  eminently  instructive  and  interesting.' 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Lowell,  still  pastor  of  the  West 
Church  in  Boston,  who  may  be  supposed  to  differ  in 
some  points  from  Mr.  French,  coincides  with  him  in 
regard  and  admiration  for  Dr.  Buckminster.  He  thus 
expresses  his  opinion  and  his  reminiscences  :  — 

'  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  been  acquainted  with  one  of 
Dr.  Buckminster's  profession,  who  impressed  me  with  a 
deeper  conviction  of  a  sincere  and  heartfelt  devotion  to  the 
duties  of  his  sacred  office  than  he  did.  There  was  nothing 
of  trifling  or  levity  about  him,  and  nothing  of  austerity. 
He  was  grave,  but  not  gloomy  ;  certainly  not  habitually  so. 
I  have  always  supposed  that  his  natural  disposition  was  a 
cheerful  one,  and  that,  though  it  was  sobered  and  chastened 
by  his  religion  and  his  trials,  it  was  not  essentially  changed. 


LETTER    OF    KEV.    DR.    LOWELL.  179 

'  In  his  person  he  was  tall  ;  in  his  manners  refined  and 
dignified,  with  a  countenance  indicative  of  high  mental 
superiority,  as  well  as  acute  sensibility,  with  the  kindest 
affections.  And  he  possessed  all  these.  He  was  a  remark- 
able man.  Had  he  been  ambitious  of  any  other  distinction 
than  that  of  a  faithful  minister  of  Jesus  Christ  in  the  com- 
paratively contracted  sphere  in  which  Providence  had  placed 
him,  he  would  have  attained,  I  am  persuaded,  to  great  emi- 
nence. 

'  In  his  preaching,  he  dwelt  often  upon  the  terrors  of  the 
law,  but  if,  as  he  should  do,  he  made  the  violated  law 
speak  out  its  thunders,  by  him,  "  in  strains  as  sweet  as 
angels  use,  the  Gospel  whispered  peace."  With  his  talents, 
and  unction,  and  noble  presence,  and  clear,  sonorous,  flex- 
ible voice,  he  could  not  fail  to  be  an  impressive  preacher.' 

To  these  I  must  be  permitted  to  add  one  more  ex- 
tract. 

'  No  one  could  be  once  in  the  presence  of  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster  and  ever  forget  him.  His  noble  and  eminently  striking 
countenance,  faultless  in  its  symmetrical  beauty,  his  dignified 
and  graceful  manners,  made  a  deep  impression,  even  before 
his  conversation  had  allowed  one  to  form  an  opinion  of  his 
eminent  talents.' 

The  most  interesting  part  of  his  character  was  not 
understood  except  by  his  own  family.  After  the 
death  of  his  first  wife,  he  was  plunged  for  many 
months  in  deep  gloom.  His  second  wife,  after  the 
first  two  or  three  years  of  her  married  life,  was  almost 
always  an  invalid,  and  occupied  in  rearing  a  young 
family.  From  these  causes  she  led  a  life  of  seclu- 
sion, so  that  there  was  not  that  frequent  intercourse 
between  the  pastor's  family  and  the  younger  members 
of  the  parish  which  would  have  enabled  them  to  see 


180  PRIVATE    AND    DOMESTIC    HABITS 

him  in  the  most  interesting  relations  of  life,  where 
his  tenderness  and  kindness  would  have  won  their 
love,  even  more  than  his  public  ministrations  com- 
manded their  reverence.  Of  his  domestic  character 
only  those  who  lived  under  the  same  roof,  and  wit- 
nessed the  spirit  of  accommodation,  the  deep,  fervent, 
but  delicate  and  forbearing  love  in  every  family 
relation,  the  genial  humor,  the  playful  familiarity 
with  which  he  treated  his  elder  children,  the  patience 
and  winning  tenderness  he  showed  the  little  ones, 
could  know  that,  whatever  reverence  he  might  com- 
mand in  public,  his  fervent  sensibility  was  the  most 
attractive  trait  in  his  character.  The  moment  his 
clear  and  musical  voice  was  heard,  the  children  were 
wild  with  impatient  joy  to  be  in  his  presence  ;  and 
then  the  infant  was  in  his  arms,  the  smaller  children 
were  climbing  his  knees  ;  and  in  their  infantile  com- 
plaints, no  one  had  the  power  of  soothing  like  himself. 
The  youngest  child  was  sent  from  home  to  nurse  ; 
the  distance  was  perhaps  half  a  mile  ;  every  day 
during  the  winter,  when  the  snow  or  rain  did  not 
actually  descend  with  violence,  the  little  girl  was 
brought  home  in  her  father's  arms,  and  carried  back 
again  in  the  afternoon  by  the  same  tender  guardian. 
And,  with  all  his  tenderness  of  feeling,  it  was  his 
deep  sense  of  duty,  of  parental  responsibility,  that 
made  him  so  careful,  so  incessantly  watchful,  over  his 
children. 

His  habits  were  as  exact  as  frequent  domestic  in- 
terruptions, with  a  large  family,  could  permit  them  to 
be.  He  had  almost  a  passionate  love  for  gardening, 
and  in  summer  the  rising  sun  usually  found  him 
there.     His  were  always  the  earliest  pease,  cucum- 


I 


OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER.  181 

bers,  etc.,  and  when  his  little  girls  were  old  enough, 
he  assisted  them  to  keep  their  small  flower-borders 
rich  and  fragrant  with  early  blossoms.  In  the  winter, 
the  wood-pile  was  substituted  in  the  early  morning 
instead  of  exercise  in  the  garden  ;  and  young  men, 
students  of  law  in  Portsmouth,  among  them  Daniel 
Webster  himself,  were  invited  to  join  him  in  sawing 
wood.  I  believe,  however,  that,  after  one  trial,  they 
gave  him  no  opportunity  to  repeat  the  invitation. 

It  was  his  unfailing  practice  to  finish  his  sermons 
before  noon  on  Saturday,  and  the  afternoon  of  that 
day  was  given  to  visiting  the  sick  or  afflicted  of  the 
parish ;  other  afternoons  of  the  week  were  devoted  to 
general  visiting.  Those  who  had  long  been  unable 
to  attend  meeting  depended  upon  their  Saturday  after- 
noon visit,  and  were  in  the  habit  of  saying  that  their 
Sabbath  began  at  the  hour  when  their  pastor  came  to 
pray  with  them. 

I  should  leave  a  beautiful  trait  of  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster's  character  untouched,  did  I  omit  to  mention  his 
tender  and  respectful  attentions  to  the  aged.  The 
parents  of  his  second  wife  dwelt  at  York,  on  the 
Maine  side  of  the  Piscataqua  River,  eight  miles  dis- 
tant from  Portsmouth.  Madam  Lyman  was  a  most 
lovely  example  of  attractive  old  age.  She  retained 
the  vivacity,  the  quickness  of  perception,  the  gentle 
dignity,  and  the  winning  sweetness,  which  we  are 
apt  to  think  belong  exclusively  to  the  younger  periods 
of  life.  She  had  been  educated  by  Mr.  Moody  of 
York,  one  of  the  distinguished  Puritan  divines  of 
our  country,  and  she  was  familiar  with  the  old  Eng- 
lish poets ;  quotations  from  which  she  would  fre- 
quently introduce  into  familiar  conversation.  It  may 
16 


182  PERSONAL    CHARACTER. 

be  thought  that  this  would  have  a  hidicrous  air  of 
pedantry  ;  but  the  quotations  were  so  appropriate,  so 
evidently  suggested  by  the  topic,  that  they  lost  their 
formal  air,  and  seemed,  from  her  lips,  the  only  thing 
that  could  be  said  upon  the  subject  ;  her  son-in-law 
would  often  meet  her  quotations  with  others  of  a 
humorous  description,  as  he  was  almost  as  familiar 
with  poetry  as  herself.  Dr.  Buckmiuster  visited  these 
aged  relatives  as  often  as  once  in  two  or  three  weeks, 
and  showed,  by  his  respectful  gallantry  to  his  charm- 
ing step-mother,  '  that  sixty  was  winning,  as  well  as 
sixteen.' 

The  impression  may  have  been  made  in  the  early 
part  of  this  memoir  that  he  was  subject  to  constant 
depression  of  spirits.  No  impression  could  be  more 
erroneous.  Only  at  two  or  three  periods,  during  the 
whole  course  of  his  life,  did  he  suffer  from  nervous 
depression.  At  all  other  times  he  was  a  most  cheer- 
ful and  fascinating  companion.  His  company  was 
sought  by  young  and  old,  and,  in  all  social  visiting, 
the  pastor's  presence  was  indispensable  to  the  cheer- 
fulness of  the  occasion.  Parties  were  not  then  so 
large  but  that  each  one  might  enter  into  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  whole.  His  imagination  was  so  lively, 
his  conversation  so  rich  and  varied,  he  was  so  happy 
in  allusions  to  subjects  that  arrested  the  attention, 
and  made  a  lasting  impression  of  something  valuable, 
even  when  amusement  alone  had  been  sought,  that  it 
may  be  safely  asserted  that  his  character,  in  its  beauty 
and  goodness,  was  as  eloquent  a  sermon  as  those  that 
fell  from  his  lips  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and  his  benignant 
countenance  spoke  a  benediction  upon  all  who  looked 
upon  it. 


LETTERS    TO    HIS    DAUGHTERS.  183 

His  remarkable  unworldliness,  and  his  persuasion 
that  sentiment  is  the  treasure-house  of  happiness,  and 
that  young  ministers  especially  should  have  in  reserve 
for  the  peculiar  trials  of  their  calling,  the  domestic 
affections,  to  fall  back  upon  as  the  surest  of  all 
resources,  made  him  think  lightly  of  pecuniary  cares. 
He  used  to  encourage  his  brethren,  when  their  means 
Avere  scanty,  to  give  themselves  to  their  appropriate 
work,  and  to  confide  in  the  Providence  of  God.  He 
said,  'As  a  general  thing,  it  is  with  ministers  in  regard 
to  their  livings  as  with  the  Israelites  of  old  in  gath- 
ering manna.  They  gather,  some  more,  some  less. 
He  that  gathers  much  has  nothing  over,  and  he  that 
gathers  little  has  no  lack.' 

A  few  of  his  familiar  letters  to  his  daughters  close 
the  chapter. 

'June,  1801. 

'  My  dear  Daughters  :  —  It  is  unreasonable  to  expect 
that  you  should  know  how  much  interested  your  parents  are 
in  your  welfare,  or  how  anxious  they  are  that  you  should 
pass  the  critical  and  most  important  period  of  youth  so  as 
to  leave  no  painful  or  humiliating  reflection  for  years  of 
more  mature  life.  We  are  thankful  that  God  has  given 
you  (for  we  are  indebted  to  him  for  all  we  have)  healthy 
constitutions,  and  that  degree  of  understanding  that  gives  us 
reason  to  hope,  that,  if  you  are  not  wanting  to  yourselves, 
you  may  pass  through  the  ordinary  stations  of  life  with 
reputation  to  yourselves,  and  with  comfort  and  usefulness 
to  your  friends.  You  have  passed  the  more  playful  season 
of  youth,  and  are  now  in  the  seed-time  of  life,  and  as  you 
sow,  so  will  you  reap.  While  you  are  endeavoring  to 
cultivate  and  improve  your  minds,  remember  it  is  all  with 
the  ultimate  view  of  improving  your  hearts.  Hate  every 
immorality.     Cherish  an  habitual  sense  of  the  presence  of 


184  LETTERS    TO    HIS    DATJGHTERS. 

God,  and  know  that  his  eye  is  always  upon  you.  He  has 
said,  "  I  love  them  that  love  me,  and  they  who  seek  me 
early  shall  find  me."  Do  not  live  without  daily  prayer. 
Do  not  profane  the  Sabbath  by  entering  into  any  amusement 

unbecoming  the  day 

'  My  dear  children,  I  am  anxious  for  you,  and  would  do 
every  thing  in  my  power  to  promote  and  secure  your  present 
and  future  felicity.  If  you  are  wise,  my  heart  will  rejoice  ; 
if  you  are  vain,  foolish,  and  frivolous,  you  will  multiply  the 
gray  hairs  on  my  head,  and  the  sorrows  in  my  heart.  To 
God  I  have  often  commended  and  do  again  commend  you, 
and  pray  that  he  would  give  you  wisdom  and  grace.' 

'July,  1801. 

'My  DEAR  Daughters,  —  The  continued  illness  of  your 
mother  rendering  it  inconvenient  for  her  to  write,  I  will 
not  let  slip  this  favorable  opportunity  of  addressing  you. 
Doubtless  your  situation,  at  this  period  of  your  life,  is  highly 
agreeable  to  you  both,  and  I  hope  it  will  be  improving  ;  but 
this  depends  very  much  upon  yourselves,  upon  your  resolu- 
tion and  unremitting  care  to  form  your  manners,  to  repress 
every  awkward  and  ungraceful  habit,  to  study  what  will 
make  you  agreeable  and  useful  to  others,  and  qualify  you 
to  act,  not  a  frivolous  and  dissipated,  but  a  dignified  and 
useful,  part  in  life.  Your  dear  mother  used  to  say,  that  it 
was  not  any  one  particular  act  or  motion  that  characterized 
the  lady.  It  was  not  to  walk  well,  to  sit  well,  to  stand  well, 
or  even  to  talk  well ;  it  was  the  whole  general  effect  of 
every  action,  and  motion,  and  word,  that  constituted  and 
formed  the  agreeable  whole  ;  — 

"  The  thousand  decencies  that  flow 
From  all  her  words  and  actions." 

'  There  is  danger,  from  all  that  you  may  see  and  hear 
from  young  ladies  collected  from  the  different  ranks  and 
walks  of  life,  that  you  may  imbibe  prejudices  against  the 
regular,  retired,  domestic  life  which  you  have  hitherto  lived, 


LETTERS  TO  HIS  DAUGHTERS.  185 

and  that  you  may  contract  a  fondness  for  gayety  and  fri- 
volity. But  be  assured,  my  daughters,  if  contentment  and 
happiness  are  objects  of  desire  with  women,  at  any  period 
of  life,  they  miss  their  aim  if  they  live  a  life  of  folly,  frolic, 
or  frivolity.  If  we  were  to  live  here  for  ever,  there  would 
be  no  contentment  in  such  a  life  ;  but  when  we  consider  that 
a  few  years  must  terminate  our  residence  on  earth,  and  then 
we  must  give  an  account  of  the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  it  is 
the  extreme  of  folly  and  stupidity.  We  are  willing  you 
should  share  in  the  innocent  amusements  of  your  years,  but 
wish  you  to  remember  that  your  object  should  be  to  endeavor 
to  prepare  to  be  useful  in  life,  to  minister  to  the  comfort  of 
your  connections,  and  the  support  of  religion.  Be  good  and 
obedient  to  your  instructors,  careful  observers  of  their  plea- 
sure, condescending  and  affectionate  to  your  companions ; 
but  be  not  dupes  to  their  follies  or  whims.  Be  always  merry 
and  wise.  I  am  \?illing  you  should  amuse  yourselves,  but 
be  serious  and  remember  you  are  old  enough  not  only  to 
say,  but  to  pray,  your  prayers. 

'  Your  affectionate  father.' 

Although  there  are  some  scores  of  such  letters  as 
the  above,  addressed  to  his  daughters  while  they 
were  at  boarding-school,  only  a  very  few  have  been 
selected,  as  a  more  faithful  impression  of  Dr.  Buck- 
minster's  character  is  given  by  inserting  those  letters 
that  are  more  directly  upon  the  subject  of  religion. 

The  tenderness  of  the  father  for  his  daughters  in- 
creased as  he  advanced  in  life.  One  of  his  younger 
girls  having  been  sent  to  Boston,  for  the  purpose  of 
attending  a  dancing-school  for  one  quarter,  the  anx- 
ious father  wrote  to  her  at  least  every  weeli:,  and 
sometimes  more  frequently. 
16* 


186  LETTERS   TO   HIS    DAUGHTERS. 

'  August  22d,  1808. 

'My  dear  F.,  —  Having  no  mother  lo  write  to  you  and 
advise  you,  you  must  suffer  a  father,  as  far  as  he  is  able,  to 
attempt  to  supply  that  inexpressible  loss,  and  I  am  persuaded, 
my  love,  that  you  will  respect  his  counsel.  My  object  in 
sending  you  to  dancing-school  is  not  so  much  that  you  may 
learn  to  dance,  as  that  your  manners  may  be  formed,  and 
that  you  may  be  able  to  conduct  yourself  with  propriety. 
I  was  very  much  gratified  to  receive  a  letter  from  you,  the 
first  you  have  ever  written  to  papa ;  it  came  safe,  and  was 
a  very  pretty  letter.  I  noticed  that  it  appeai'ed  to  be  written 
in  a  great  hurry,  but  such  things  will  happen  when  ladies 
are  full  of  business  and  full  of  cares.  Though  I  am  desirous 
you  should  have  an  education  that  will  enable  you  to  appear 
without  blushing  in  the  society  of  your  equals,  and  form  you 
to  be  useful  and  agreeable,  yet  my  principal  concern  should 
be  that  you  may  be  educated  to  know  Go«^  and  Jesus  Christ, 
and  be  trained  up  to  fear,  love,  and  serve  him.  I  hope,  my 
daughter,  you  will  not  forget  the  religious  education  you 
have  received,  nor  neglect  to  read  the  Bible  every  day,  and 
pray  to  God  to  take  care  of  you,  and  bless  you,  and  keep 
you  fi'om  offending  him,  while  you  are  growing  up  to  serve 
him  in  this  ensnaring  world.  Be  sure  I  shall  pray  for  you, 
love,  every  day,  and  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  know 
that  you  prayed  for  your  father  and  your  brothers  and 
sisters.  I  hope  they  pray  for  you.  I  know  they  love  you. 
Be  a  good  girl,  and  every  body  will  love  you. 

'  I  hope  you  will  retain  your  affection  for  Portsmouth, 
and,  though  contented  wherever  you  stay,  you  will  always 
give  the  preference  to  your  father's  house  till  you  get  one 
of  your  own. 

'  I  preached  yesterday  to  my  people  from  Timothy's 
knowing  the  Scriptures  from  a  child.  He  was  an  excellent 
youth,  and  this  early  religious  knowledge  was  a  principal 
cause  of  his  excellence.  The  Bible  gives  good  directions 
for  our  worldly  comfort  and  prosperity,  and  it  is  the  only 


LETTERS    TO    HIS    DAUGHTERS.  187 

book  that  shows  how  sinners  may  be  forgiven  and  made 
happy.  It  says,  and  there  never  was  a  juster  saying,  that 
"  favor  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain,  but  a  woman  that 
feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be  honored  !  " 

'We  all  send  love,  from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  by 

'  Your  affectionate  father.' 

'  September  2d,  1808. 

'My  dear  F.,  —  I  have  so  many  cares  and  avocations, 
that  I  have  but  little  time  to  write.  I  am  sorry,  when  you 
have  so  much  time  on  hand,  that  you  should  stand  upon 
punctilios  with  papa.  If  you  knew  how  much  1  love  you, 
and  am  concerned  for  your  welfare,  you  would  think  of 
me  eveiy  day,  pray  for  me  when  you  prayed  for  yourself, 
and  write  to  me  whenever  you  could.  I  send  you  a  little 
book  with  an  address  on  one  of  the  blank  leaves  from  your 
dear  father's  heart ;  if  you  have  never  seen  it,  I  hope  it 
will  please  you  ;  if  you  have  seen  it,  yet,  for  your  father's 
sake  and  your  own,  you  will  read  it  again  and  again.  But 
there  is  no  book,  my  dear  Frances,  like  the  Bible.  Let  no 
business  nor  pleasure,  no  company  nor  care,  prevent  your 
reading  and  recollecting  some  part  of  it  every  day.  Other 
books  may  make  us  wise  for  this  world,  but  this,  believed 
and  obeyed,  will  make  us  wise  to  salvation,  through  faith 
that  is  in  Jesus  Christ.  If  others  neglect  the  Bible,  or  speak 
lightly  of  it,  O,  do  not  you  !  Remember  who  has  said, 
"  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  to  gain  the  whole  world  and 
lose  his  own  soul  ?  " 

'  I  find  you  have  a  desire,  my  little  daughter,  to  attend 
the  dancing-school  ball,  and  I  would  not  so  far  thwart  your 
inclinations  as  to  forbid  it ;  but  I  would  caution  you  against 
thinking  that  to  figure  at  a  ball  is  any  essential  part  of  a 
lady's  education,  who  intends  to  form  the  refined  and  ele- 
vated character  which  I  hope  it  will  be  the  ambition  of  my 
daughters  to  attain.  No  lady  is  at  any  time  more  respected 
for  distinguishing  herself  in  these   sportive  exhibitions.     I 


188  LETTERS  TO  HIS  DAUGHTERS 

sent  you  to  dancing-school,  in  the  hope  that  you  would 
acquire  an  easiness  of  manners  that  would  render  you 
graceful  and  respectable  in  the  formal  or  the  family  circles 
that  you  may  be  connected  with  in  life. 

'  I  presume,  by  your  letter  to  one  of  your  sisters,  that  you 
have  been  to  the  theatre.  I  hope  the  edge  of  your  curiosity 
is  taken  off,  and  that  once  will  suffice  for  such  an  amuse- 
ment. The  theatre,  my  dear  daughter,  is  a  dangerous 
place  for  young  women,  although  it  is  the  fashion  to  praise 
it,  and  talk  about  those  who  distinguish  themselves  there. 
Yet  who  esteems  an  actor  upon  the  stage  ?  Who  ever 
came  home  from  a  play  better  fitted  in  mind  or  heart  to 
read  the  Bible,  pray  to  God,  and  lie  down  upon  his  bed 
prepared  for  sleep  or  death  ? 

'  Your  affectionate  father, 

'  J.   BUCKMINSTER.' 


CHAPTER    XI. 

JOSEPH      S.     BUCKMINSTEE. HIS     THEOLOGICAL      STUDIES. 

CORRESPONDENCE. HIS    INVITATION    TO    BRATTLE    STREET 

CHURCH. HIS    ORDINATION. 

180-1.  Nearly  a  year  had  passed  since  the  cor- 

Aged  20.  respondence  we  have  inserted  between  the 
father  and  son,*  and  while  domestic  cares  pressed 
heavily  upon  the  former,  the  sorest  of  all  his  disap- 
pointments was  the  wavering  and  unsettled  faith  of 
his  son  upon  some  doctrines  which  the  father  believed 
essential  to  true  piety,  to  the  culture  of  the  religious 
affections,  and  to  all  usefulness  and  success  in  the 
profession  lie  had  chosen. 

It  has  been  seen  that  my  brother  did  not  pursue  his 
studies  in  the  customary  manner,  which,  as  there 
were  no  schools  of  theology  at  that  time,  was  usually 
by  residing  in  the  family  of  a  clergyman,  and  study- 
ing divinity,  as  law  and  physic  Avere  studied,  under 
the  direction  of  a  master.  As  the  study  of  divinity 
was  almost  wholly  technical,  that  is,  the  study  of  the 
forms  and  phraseology  which  the  divine  science  had 
taken  in  the  hands  of  man,  two  or  three  years  was 
ample  time  to  furnish  a  candidate.  He  seems  early 
to  have  taken  a  more  liberal  view  of  the  studies 
requisite   to   his   profession.      In   one   of  his  college 

*  Pages  137-155. 


190  JOSEPH    S.    BITCKMINSTER. 

themes  there  is  a  humorous  description  of  the  manner 
of  finishing  a  candidate  for  the  ministry.  He,  on 
the  contrary,  thought  that  no  culture  could  be  too 
generous  for  this,  in  his  estimation,  the  most  noble  of 
professions ;  that  every  branch  of  human  knowledge 
should  contribute  to  form  and  enrich  his  mind  who 
was  to  address  every  class  of  persons,  upon  subjects 
the  most  momentous  and  of  imperishable  value.  And 
as  the  preparation  could  not  be  too  liberal,  so  the 
acquirements  and  the  additions  to  his  rich  stores  of 
preparation  should  never  cease,  but  go  on  augment- 
ing to  the  end  of  life. 

His  father  retained  the  old-fashioned  idea,  that  it 
was  indispensable  for  a  student  of  divinity  to  live 
with  a  clergyman  already  settled,  and  learn  ministerial 
duties  from  his  example.  That  my  brother's  studies 
were  pursued  in  a  manner  different  from  the  usual 
course  is  undoubtedly  true  ;  but  with  the  privilege  of 
obtaining  books  from  the  College  library,  which  he 
could  not  have  enjoyed  by  residing  in  a  remote  coun- 
try village,  the  society  of  the  learned  of  all  professions, 
and  the  excitement  of  mind  that  is  obtained  in  all 
literary  pursuits,  where  the  chain  of  thought  is  kept 
bright  by  the  perpetual  collision  of  different  intellects, 
must  have  more  than  counterbalanced  the  advantages 
of  private  instruction  in  ministerial  duties.  There  is 
also  a  class  of  duties  for  which  little  preparation  of  the 
intellect  can  be  received  from  books  or  from  instruc- 
tion. To  comfort  the  afflicted  and  bereaved,  to  soothe 
the  guilty  or  agitated  soul,  to  support  with  tender 
sympathy  the  lonely  mind  as  it  approaches  the  gate 
of  death,  to  be  what  Jesus  was  to  the  sisters  and 
Lazarus,  the  heart  itself  is  the  best,  and  perhaps  the 


HIS    THEOLOGICAL    STUDIES.  191 

only,  instructor.  He  who  does  not  feel,  cannot  teach 
upon  such  occasions  ;  —  the  silent  pressure  of  the  hand 
from  a  heart  deeply  moved  is  better  than  whole  vol- 
umes of  formal  consolation. 

There  are,  fortunately,  the  means  of  showing,  from 
a  journal  of  his  studies,  kept  very  exactly,  the  year 
previous  to  his  settlement  in  Brattle  Street,  that  his 
reading  was  extensive,  comprehensive,  and  most  con- 
scientious, and  that  in  compliance  with  his  father's 
advice,  he  faithfully  studied  Orthodox  writers.  He 
made  an  accurate  analysis  of  most  of  the  books  that 
he  studied,  which  is  too  long  to  be  inserted  here. 
The  part  of  the  journal  which  is  afterwards  inserted 
is  from  December,  1803,  to  December,  1804.  It 
probably  gives  a  fair  account  of  his  manner  and 
course  of  study,  and  the  theological  student  of  the 
present  day  can  judge  how  far  it  would  have  been 
better  to  have  yielded  to  his  father's  earnest  advice, 
to  put  himself  under  the  guidance  of  some  settled  or 
aged  minister.  No  doubt,  the  helps  that  students 
have  since  derived  from  the  introduction  and  trans- 
lation of  German  theology,  the  study  of  the  German 
language,  the  various  learned  and  critical  reviews, 
which  were  then  almost  unknown,  the  establishment 
of  professorships  and  schools,  —  the  impulse  given 
to  theological  studies  by  all  these  aids  would  have 
been  of  incalculable  advantage  to  him, — would  have 
abridged  his  labor  and  cheered  him  on  his  solitary 
path.  During  this  whole  year,  also,  he  was  harassed 
and  distressed  by  his  father's  disapproval  of  his  method 
of  study,  and  by  the  withholding  of  his  consent  to 
his  advancement  in  his  profession.  This  alone  must 
have  thrown  disheartening  uncertainty  over  all   his 


192  RECOMMENCES    PKEACHING. 

pursuits ;  and  if  he  could  have  been  discouraged,  it 
would  have  turned  him  aside  from  that  which  he 
always  felt  was  the  sure  direction  and  leading  of 
Providence. 

How  sad  are  the  reflections  that  follow  from  read- 
ing the  record  of  his  studies !  He  had  learned  the 
mastery  of  his  tools,  and  had  laid  out  a  great  plan 
upon  a  world-wide  area,  lengthening  out,  also,  to  the 
end  of  life,  where  the  ardor  of  pursuit  would  never 
flag.  And  had  a  long  and  healthful  life  been  allotted 
him,  his  favorite  passion  would  have  cheated  it  of  its 
loneliness.  'And  what,'  as  he  said  of  another,  'might 
not  have  been  expected  from  him,  had  he  enjoyed 
the  lights  that  have  been  thrown  upon  criticism  and 
theology  since  his  death  ? '  ' 

Notwithstanding  the  matter  seemed  finally  settled, 
in  the  last  letters  that  passed  between  father  and  son, 
the  friends  of  the  latter,  in  Boston  and  Cambridge, 
still  urged  him  to  preach.  In  the  beginning  of  Sep- 
tember he  visited  Portsmouth,  and  we  infer,  as  the 
subject  was  not  again  mentioned,  that  he  satisfied  his 
father's  scruples  so  far  as  to  obtain  his  consent  to  his 
preaching.  There  seems  to  have  been  a  silent  con- 
sent between  father  and  son,  that  differences  of  opin- 
ion should  sink  away,  and  that  they  should  stand 
together,  although  on  opposite  sides  of  theological 
ground,  firm  to  both  of  them,  joining  hands  across 
the  abyss  that  separated  them ;  the  father  trusting 
to  time  to  fill  the  chasm,  the  son  to  parental  tender- 
ness to  overlook  it. 

My  brother  makes  this  entry  in  his  journal,  in  Sep- 
tember, 1804 :  — '  Returned  from  Portsmouth  ten  days 


INVITATION    FROM    BRATTLE    STREET    CHURCH.  193 

ago.  By  the  persuasion  of  Boston  friends,  and  the 
consent  of  my  father,  I  recommence  preaching.  Last 
Sabbath  of  September  preached  for  Mr.  Gushing  of 
Wahham,  Matthew  xi.  29 :  "  Learn  of  me,  for  I  am 
meek  and  lowly  of  heart."  What  its  issue  will  be 
I  know  not.  If  I  could  satisfy  myself  and  my  father 
better  in  undertaking  this  work,  I  should  go  on  with 
a  lighter  heart,  notwithstanding  the  peculiar  diffi- 
culties of  my  situation.'  A  number  of  the  leading 
men  of  the  Brattle  Street  society  went  to  Waltham 
upon  this  occasion  to  hear  his  first  sermon,  and  the 
result  was  another  pressing  invitation  to  preach  for 
that  society. 

On  October  21st,  1804,  he  preached  for  the  first 
time  at  Brattle  Street.  After  the  entry  of  this  fact 
in  his  journal,  he  adds,  —  'May  I  dare  to  say,  Deo 
juvante! '  The  people  of  Brattle  Street  Church  were 
very  prompt  in  their  measures.  At  their  next  meet- 
ing it  was  voted  unanimously,  '  That  the  committee 
for  supplying  the  pulpit  be  requested  to  invite  Mr. 
Buckminster  to  preach  to  us  four  Sabbaths,  upon  pro- 
bation, with  a  view  to  settle  as  our  minister.'  Upon 
which  he  received  the  following  letter  from  the  chair- 
man :  — 

'  Sir,  —  As  chairman  of  the  committee  for  supplying  the 
pulpit  in  the  parish  of  Brattle  Street  in  Boston,  I  have  the 
pleasure  to  transmit  to  you  the  inclosed  vote  of  that  society. 

'  From  the  unanimity  that  prevailed  when  the  vote  was 
passed,  it  may  be  considered  as  a  leading  step  towards 
forming  a  connection  which  I  hope  will  promote  their 
interest  and  your  happiness.  The  office  of  minister  to  this 
ancient  society  will  be  an  office  of  care  and  anxiety ;  but, 
from  the  character  of  the  parish,  I  think  you  may  reason- 
17 


194  EFFECT  OF  HIS  PREACHING. 

ably  conclude  that  you  will  for  ever  receive  from  its 
members  all  the  candor  and  support  necessary  to  your 
station  as  a  minister. 

'  I  remain,  with  ardent  wishes  for  your  health  and  useful- 
ness, your  sincere  friend  and  humble  servant, 

'  James  Sullivan.' 

In  his  answer,  Mr.  Buckminster  says  :  —  'In  pursu- 
ance of  this  vote,  I  consider  myself  engaged  to  supply 
the  desk  in  Brattle  Street  for  four  Sabbaths ;  but  I 
wish  that  this  engagement  may  not  be  considered  as 
an  expression  or  intimation  of  a  final  determination 
in  consequence  of  any  future  proceedings  of  the 
society.' 

It  may,  perhaps,  excite  stu'prise  in  those  unac- 
quainted with  our  society,  to  find  the  Brattle  Street 
Church  so  ready  to  invite  as  their  pastor  a  young 
man  of  only  twenty  years,  and  he  so  prompt  to  accept 
such  large  and  heavy  responsibilities.  It  had  been 
the  habit  of  the  place,  and  of  Brattle  Street  especially, 
to  call  very  young  men,  and,  if  they  were  found 
inadequate,  to  give  them  an  assistant  preacher,  and 
that  the  society  proposed  to  do  in  this  instance.  It 
must  be  recollected,  also,  that  my  brother,  though 
young  in  age,  had  been  four  years  preparing  for  his 
profession,  and  that  he  had  a  strong  conviction  that 
only  a  short  time  would  be  allowed  him  in  which 
to  complete  his  work. 

His  preaching,  together  with  that  of  Rev,  W.  E. 
Channing,  who  had  jast  been  settled  in  Federal 
Street,  was  said  by  Dr.  Kirkland  to  have  formed  an 
era  in  the  history  of  the  pulpit.  The  sermons  of  the 
New  England  divines  had  hitherto  been  rather  com- 
mentaries upon  Christian  doctrines  ;  or,  if  upon  ethical 


EFFECT  OF  HIS  PREACHING.  195 

subjects,  they  were  supported  by  a  long  array  of 
texts  of  Scripture ;  argumentative  they  were,  and 
requiring  the  closest  attention  and  exercise  of  the 
intellect  to  be  appreciated  and  understood.  They 
were  not  glowing  essays  addressed  to  the  intellect, 
the  heart,  and  the  affections,  like  the  sermons  of 
Channing,  who  had  just  begun  his  brilliant  career, 
and  whose  thoughtful  and  fervid  eloquence  drew  to 
him  crowds  of  devoted  and  admiring  listeners.  A 
contemporary  thus  speaks  of  Mr.  Buckminster  :  —  'I 
cannot  attempt  to  describe  the  delight  and  wonder 
with  which  his  first  sermons  were  listened  to  by  all 
classes  of  hearers.  The  most  refined  and  the  least 
cultivated  equally  hung  upon  his  lips.  The  attention 
of  the  thoughtless  was  fixed.  The  gayety  of  youth 
was  composed  to  seriousness ;  the  mature,  the  aged, 
the  most  vigorous  and  enlarged  minds,  were  at  once 
charmed,  instructed,  and  improved.'* 

Many  gifts  for  a  pulpit  orator  were  united  in  him, 
but  there  was  one  quality  that  made  his  preaching 
so  eminently  effective.  It  was  intellectual  sincerity. 
The  truths  he  enforced  were  not  only  clear  to  his 
heart  and  beautiful  to  his  imagination  ;  they  were  the 
strongest  faith  of  his  intellect.  He  not  only  loved  the 
truths  he  preached  for  their  softening  and  civilizing 
influence  ;  he  believed  likewise  that  they  were  the 
power  of  God  unto  salvation.  This  entire  conviction 
of  the  intellect  is  aside  from  moral  purity  or  pious 
affections  ;  it  is  to  the  soul  what  the  breath  of  life  is 
to  the  body. 

His   father,  hearing  the  flattering   reports  of  his 

«  *  Mr.  Thacher's  Memoir. 


196  VOTE    OF    THE    PARISH. 

preaching,  writes  to  him  in  a  strain  calculated  to 
chasten  the  pride  of  applause,  and  apparently  without 
any  elation  himself. 

'  Dec.  3a,  1804. 

'  My  dear  Son, Common  fame  speaks  of  your 

preaching  with  general  acceptance.  This  was  to  be  antici- 
pated from  the  expectation  that  was  raised  about  you,  but 
nothing  is  more  fickle  than  the  applause  of  the  multitude, 
excited  by  showy  talents.  Be  not  elated.  Your  own  letter 
intimates  that  your  friends  flatter  you  that  the  society  to 
which  you  are  preaching  will  be  united  in  you.  If  they 
are  understandingly  united,  your  wishes  may  perhaps  be 
gratified.  Do  not,  my  son,  trust  to  the  favor  of  man ;  look 
to  God,  from  whom  cometh  every  good  and  perfect  gift ; 
and  may  he  bless  you,  soul  and  body,  for  time  and  for 
eternity  ! ' 

On  November  10,  1804,  the  society  in  Brattle  Street 
voted,  with  only  one  dissentient  voice,  to  invite  him 
to  become  its  pastor.  The  proceedings  of  the  society 
were  as  follows :  — i  Judge  Sullivan,  Moderator.  Major 
Melville  made  a  motion  that  Mr.  Buckminster  should 
be  invited  to  preach  four  Sabbaths,  with  a  view  to 
settlement.  Seconded  by  H.  G.  Otis.  A  unanimous 
vote.  Mr.  Cooper  observed  that  he  was  not  suffi- 
ciently informed  of  Mr.  B.'s  orthodoxy,  and  threw  out 
hints  of  Arianism  and  Socinianism.  Judge  Sullivan 
observed  that  he  assented  to  the  church  covenant. 
Mr.  Hancock  observed  that  he  had  no  fears.  Mr. 
Cooper  desired  a  day  of  prayer.  It  was  overruled. 
The  committee  of  the  parish  were  desired  to  make 
the  necessary  preparations  to  expedite  a  settlement  in 
case  the  call  was  accepted.' 

Thus  we  see,  that,  in  this  ancient  and  orthodox 


HIS   ANSWER.  197 

church,  there  was  no  concealment.  All  was  openly 
conducted.  The  candidate's  answer  was  given  upon 
the  second  succeeding  Sabbath.  He  does  not  attempt 
to  conceal  the  gratification  he  felt  in  finding  his  ser- 
vices so  highly  appreciated  by  them ;  but,  not  having 
completed  his  twenty-first  year,  his  youth  induces 
him  to  propose  that  a  colleague  should  be  settled 
with  him. 

'  Gentlemen,  —  No  rule  of  propriety  or  delicacy  requires 
me  to  forbear  all  expression  of  pleasure  at  the  testimonies 
of  approbation  and  good-will  which  have  marked  the  pro- 
ceedings of  your  society ;  neither  am  I  sensible  of  any 
advantage  which  would  result  from  the  longer  delay  of  an 
answer  to  an  invitation  adopted  with  such  unanimity,  and 
recommended  by  such  encouragement.  But  while  I  give 
you  this  early  intimation  that  I  have  concluded  to  accept 
your  proposals,  I  should  be  unfaithful  to  you  and  to  myself, 
if  I  did  not  express  my  apprehensions  that  you  will  be 
called  to  overlook  many  deficiencies,  and  to  excuse  many 
mistakes,  in  one  whose  youth  and  consequent  inexperience, 
united  with  precarious  health,  will  ask  for  a  continuance 
of  all  the  indulgence  which  his  past  intercourse  with  you 
encourages  him  to  expect. 

'  If,  in  the  course  of  events,  an  opportunity  should  occur 
of  associating  with  me  another  pastor,  much  of  our  mutual _ 
anxiety  might  be  relieved,  and  the  interests  of  a  numerous 
society  judiciously  consulted.  But  if  the  cause  of  Christ 
should  not  be  found  to  suffer  from  the  insufficiency  of  my 
single  efforts,  I  trust  I  shall  be  disposed  to  thank  that  God, 
in'  whose  strength  alone  the  weak  are  strong,  in  whose 
wisdom  the  inexperienced  are  wise,  and  with  whose  blessing 
the  most  feeble  labors  will  not  prove  unsuccessful.  If  God 
should  spare  my  life,  I  hope  some  of  its  most  cheerful  and 
permanent  consolations  will  be  found  in  the  uninterrupted 
harmony, the  increasing  affection,  and  the  spiritual  improve- 
17* 


198  LETTER.  FROM  HIS  FATHER. 

ment  of  this  large  society.  To  instruct  the  ignorant,  to 
reclaim  the  wandering,  to  console  the  afflicted,  to  reconcile 
the  alienated,  to  declare  the  whole  counsel  of  God,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  to  give  no  offence  in  any  thing,  that  the 
ministry  be  not  blamed,  are  duties  which  no  pastor  can 
even  partially  perform,  unless  encouraged  by  your  utmost 
charity  and  aided  by  your  public  and  private  prayers. 

'  For  these,  then,  I  ask,  and  may  that  God  who  has 
hitherto  blessed  the  religious  interests  of  your  society  in 
granting  you  a  succession  of  luminaries  whose  light  has  not 
yet  departed,  though  their  orbs  have  set,  continue  to  build 
you  up  in  faith,  charity,  purity,  and  peace,  and  give  you  at 
last  an  inheritance  among  them  that  are  sanctified. 

'  J.  S.  BUCEMINSTER.' 

The  noble,  considerate,  and  generous  sentiments 
by  which  the  Brattle  Street  society  were  ever  gov- 
erned in  their  relations  with  him;  the  indulgence 
with  which  they  ever  regarded  his  youth,  and  the 
consequent  deficiencies  of  his  experience  ;  the  cor- 
diality with  which  they  met  his  every  wish  ;  the 
tenderness  and  sympathy  with  which  they  looked 
upon  the  embarrassments  occasioned  by  his  illness, 
were  met  by  him  with  feelings  of  the  deepest  grati- 
tude. The  time  that  he  was  their  pastor  was  ren- 
dered the  happiest  portion  of  his  life ;  and  had  it 
pleased  God  to  lengthen  his  days,  the  tenderest  rela- 
tions, no  doubt,  would  have  been  knit  between  them. 

His  father  was  now  consulted,  whether  he  would 
take  part  in  the  ordination.  The  son's  letters  are 
lost,  but  his  father  wrote  as  follows :  — 

'  Doc.  14,  1804. 

'My  dear  Son,  —  I  received  your  letter  last  evening, 
having  been  expecting  one  for  several  days.     The  contents 


CORRESPONDENCE.  199 

were  such  as  I  anticipated,  after  having  heard  of  the  par- 
tiality with  which  your  preaching  was  received.  If  that 
church  and  society  have  chosen  you  for  their  minister, 
and  you  choose  to  settle  with  them,  I  know  of  nothing  to 
hinder  it.  Every  society  has  a  right  to  choose  its  minister, 
and  the  minister  is  bound  to  follow  what  he  believes  to  be 
the  leading  of  Providence.  I  suppose  the  votes  you  mention 
were  given  by  the  society,  not  by  the  church  in  distinction 
from  the  society ;  if  so,  there  is  some  informality  in  the 
process.  The  church  should  lead  in  calling  a  minister,  and 
the  parish  concur  ;  for  parishes  are  not  known  in  the  Gospel, 
nor  in  ecclesiastical  councils.  I  know  not  whether  this 
distinction  is  observed  in  Boston  and  its  vicinity. 

'  You  will  doubtless,  my  son,  accept  the  call,  and  they 
will  wish  you  inducted  as  soon  as  possible.  Even  if  I  had 
no  scruples  upon  my  mind  respecting  the  sentiments  you 
entertain,  I  should  be  willing  to  be  excused  from  any  part 
in  the  tender  and  affecting  scene,  and  I  should  be  glad  to 
spare  you  from  that  anxiety  which  sons  feel  respecting  the 
performances  of  their  fathers.  And  under  present  circum- 
stances this  anxiety  will  be  increased  on  your  part,  lest  your 
orthodox,  or  rather,  bigoted,  father  should  mortify  you  with 
his  theology,  and  perhaps  offend  the  society  over  which  you 
are  to  be  settled.  Therefore  I  should  much  prefer  to  be  left 
out  of  the  afTair 

'  It  is  a  great  and  arduous  work,  my  son,  upon  which 
you  are  entering ;  but  he  that  desires  the  office  of  a  Bishop 
desires  a  good  work ;  and  if  he  enter  upon  it  with  proper 
furniture,  with  right  views  and  motives,  sensible  where  his 
strength  lies,  he  will  be  supported  under  all  his  burdens,  and 
receive  out  of  the  fulness  that  there  is  in  Christ  (in  whom 
dwells  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily)  according  to  his 
necessities.  God  forbid  that  I  should  cease  to  pray  for  you, 
and  I  hope,  my  son,  that  you  will  maintain  constant  and 
fervent  prayer  in  your  closet.  Study  upon  your  knees,  my 
son,  and  search  the  Scriptures  with   humility  and   prayer. 


200  CORRESPONDENCE. 

I  hope  God  will  guide  you  into  all  truth,  and  that  the  Spirit 
will  bring  to  your  remembrance  the  things  wherein  you 
have  been  instructed  in  your  youth. 

'  As  you  will  now  be  a  minister  in  Boston,  where  tempta- 
tions and  dangers  are  many,  permit  a  father  to  exhort  you 
to  have  regard  to  your  health.  Resolve  fixedly  not  to  go 
to  large  dinners  or  entertainments  in  any  frequency ;  and 
do  not  join  parties  of  mere  amusement.  Your  predecessors 
were  perhaps  injured  by  such  indulgence,  and  their  lives 
shortened ;  take  a  good  portion  of  regular  exercise,  not 
barely  in  visiting,  but  in  riding,  walking,  or  in  sawing  wood. 
I  hope  you  will  rise  early,  and  not  spend  your  nights  in 
study.  Sad  experience  will  teach  you  that  this  practice  is 
hurtful  to  the  delicate  structure  of  the  nerves.  I  can  say 
no  more,  but  commend  you  to  God.  Although  in  many 
things  I  have  doubtless  failed  in  parental  duty,  my  con- 
science testifies  that  I  have  always  had  at  heart  your  best 
good,  and  it  will  ever  be  a  subject  that  will  rise  up  and  lie 
down  with  me. 

'  P.  S.  As  I  have  expressed  in  the  letter,  it  will  be  more 
agreeable  to  me  to  take  no  part  in  the  act  of  your  settle- 
ment ;  but  if  it  should  be  your  wish  that  I  should  preach, 
I  suppose  that  could  be  done  without  my  taking  any  part 
in  the  council  of  ordination.' 

'  Dec.  31st,  1804. 

'  My  dear  Son, Since  it  seems  to  be  your  wish 

that  I  should  attempt  to  preach  at  your  ordination,  I  have 
been  throwing  together  some  thoughts  upon  a  subject  not 
very  foreign  from  those  you  suggest  to  me,  but  they  are  at 
present  in  the  state  of  the  world  at  the  veiy  beginning  of  the 
creation.  I  shall  endeavor  to  reduce  them  to  some  form, 
in  order  that,  if  your  mother's  health  will  permit,  I  may  be 
able  to  be  with  you,  and  support  you,  on  the  day  that  must 
be  anticipated  by  you  with  great  seriousness  and  anxiety. 
I  would  by  no  means  dictate  to  you  respecting  a  preacher 
in  case  I  should  fail,  but  I  am  sorry  that  Dr.  Morse  should 


ORDINATION    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER.  201 

be  unpopular  with  any  of  your  society,  or  that  you  should 
feel  as  if  any  of  the  society  did  not  esteem  and  respect 
him, 

'  If  I  were  as  much  of  a  Hopkinsian  on  some  points  as 
you,  my  son,  are  upon  others,  I  should  be  glad  they  had 
thought  of  Mr.  Appleton*  for  CaiTibridge  [for  Hollis  Pro- 
fessor of  Divinity].  I  think  there  is  no  man  so  likely  to 
render  calm  and  to  keep  quiet  the  two  opposite  parties, 
and  to  preserve  Cambridge  from  becoming  the  arena  of 
theological  discord  ;  but  the  loss  to  me,  to  the  Academy, 
and  to  our  Association  would  be  irreparable. 

'  You  must  be  prepared  with  another  preacher,  lest  your 
mother's  health  should  forbid  my  being  with  you.  She 
has  frequent  ill  turns  that  chill  the  ai'dor  of  the  hopes  I 
sometimes  form  of  her  recovery.  I  desire  to  be  humble 
under  all  God's  rebukes,  and  receive  submissively  all  his 
dealings.  I  hope  the  clouds  he  spreads  over  my  prospects 
here  will  serve  to  brighten  the  scene  beyond  the  grave. 
Happy  he  who  can  say,  "  Yea,  doubtless  I  esteem  all  things 
but  loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ 
my  Lord."  That  you  and  T,  my  dear  son,  may  have  this 
knowledge,  and  through  it,  comparatively,  despise  all  earthly 
things,  may  God  give  us  grace  sincerely  to  pray  ! 
'  Your  affectionate  father, 

'  J.  BUCKMINSTER.' 

The  day  for  the  ordination  had  been  appointed 
for  the  30th  of  January,  just  a  year  after  the  society 
had  first  asked  him  to  preach  upon  probation,  when 
he  had  been  held  back  by  his  own  youth  and  his 
father's  anxiety.  A  most  severe  snow-storm  occurred 
on  the  28th,  but,  notwithstanding  the  depth  of  the 
snow,  his  father  arrived  the  evening  before  the  ap- 
pointed day. 

*  Afterwards  President  of  Brunswick  College. 


202  EXTRACT    FROM    DR.    BUCKMINSTER's 

Joseph  makes  this  record  of  the  ordination  in  his 
journal :  —  '•  The  council  met  at  ten  o'clock.  Papers 
were  produced.  Dr.  Kirkland  moved  for  a  confession 
of  faith.  It  was  read.  No  objection  was  made  to  it. 
My  father  preached.  The  ordaining  prayer  was  by 
Dr.  Lathrop.  Charge  by  Dr.  Gushing.  Concluding 
prayer  by  Dr.  Morse.  Fellowship  of  the  churches 
by  Mr.  Emerson.  Psalm  and  benediction  by  myself. 
Every  thing  proceeded,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  with 
perfect  decorum,  and  the  solemnities  were  more  inter- 
esting than  usual.' 

The  sermon,  of  which  the  text,  chosen  by  Dr. 
Buckminster,  was,  '  Let  no  man  despise  thee,'  was 
not  certainly  one  of  his  happiest  efforts.  It  was  too 
desultory,  and,  as  he  said,  '  the  heart  of  a  parent,  that 
anxious,  busy  thing,  could  scarcely  be  diverted  from 
the  image  of  his  son  while  addressing  superiors  in 
age  and  standing.' 

The  address  to  his  son  at  the  conclusion  is  now 
deeply  significant  to  those  who  know  the  peculiar 
tenderness  of  the  relation  between  them,  and  how  it 
had  been  strained  and  wounded  by  the  conscientious 
scruples  that  led  them  to  different  conclusions  in  their 
doctrinal  sentiments. 

'  My  son,  the  day  has  arrived  in  which  you  are  to  be 
completely  invested  with  that  office,  divine  in  its  origin, 
important  in  its  design,  and  beneficent  in  its  influence,  of 
which  you  have  been  emulous  from  your  earliest  years, 
and  which  you  have  always  kept  in  view  in  your  literary 
pursuits.  While  I  have  endeavored  to  restrain  your  ardor 
and  check  the  rapidity  of  your  course,  motives  of  concern 
for  tlie  honor  of  God,  and  for  your  reputation  and  comfort, 
influenced   my  conduct.     But   a   power  paramount   to  all 


ORDINATION    SERMON.  203 

human  influence  has  cast  the  die,  and  I  bow  submissively. 
God's  will  be  done  ! 

'  In  the  hours  of  parental  instruction,  when  my  speech 
and  affection  distilled  upon  you  as  the  dew,  you  have  often 
heard  me  refer  to  the  cheering  satisfaction  with  which  I 
presented  you  at  the  baptismal  fount,  in  the  name  of  the 
sacred  Trinity,  and  enrolled  you  among  the  members  of 
Christ's  visible  family ;  would  to  God  I  might  now  lead  you 
with  the  same  cheering  hope  to  the  altar  of  God,  and  lend 
you  to  the  Lord  as  long  as  you  shall  live !  But  the  days 
are  past  in  which  you  can  depend  upon  the  offering  of  a 
parent.  To  your  own  Master  you  stand  or  fall.  God  grant 
the  response  may  be,  "  He  shall  be  holden  up,  for  God  is 
able  to  make  him  stand  !  "  ' 

And  thus  he  pleaded  for  his  son  with  the  so- 
ciety:— 

'  The  heart  of  a  father,  alive  to  the  interests  of  a  son  and 
not  indifferent  to  the  honor  of  the  Gospel,  recoiled  from  the 
idea  of  his  beginning  his  ministerial  efforts  upon  so  public  a 
theatre,  and  before  so  enlightened  an  audience ;  and  the 
hope  that  longer  delay  and  greater  experience  would  render 
him  more  equal  to  the  duties  of  the  ministiy,  and  more 
worthy  of  the  esteem  and  respect  of  his  fellow-men,  induced 
me  to  yield  with  reluctance  to  your  early  request  to  hear 
him  as  a  candidate.  But  since  your  candor  and  charity 
have  silenced  my  scinjples,  and  your  affection  and  judgment 
have  become  surety  for  the  youth,  and  he  himself  has  said 
"  he  will  go  with  you,"  I  yield  him  to  your  request.  Bear 
him  up  by  the  arms  of  faith  and  prayer.  Remember  him 
always  in  your  devotional  exercises.  May  God  have  you 
and  your  pastor  within  his  holy  keeping !  May  he  shed 
down  upon  you  unitedly  his  celestial  dews,  that  you  may 
be  like  a  watered  garden,  and  like  a  spring  whose  waters 
fail  not!' 


CHAPTER   XII. 

EXTRACTS    FEOM    SEFMONS. ILLNESS. MUSIC. LETTERS. 

1805.  The   father,  having  left  his  Benjamin  in 

Aged  21.  Boston,  returned,  and  the  son  appeared  to 
begin  his  ministry  nnder  the  happiest  auspices,  but 
he  enters  in  his  journal,  immediately  after  the  ordi- 
nation,—  'Alas!  who  knows  what  is  before  him?' 
The  very  next  day  he  was  seized  with  a  severe  fever, 
brought  on,  no  doubt,  by  anxiety  and  fatigue,  and  he 
was  not  able  to  commence  his  ministry  till  the  begin- 
ning of  March.  Although  at  first  a  severe  disap- 
pointment to  him,  it  was  a  season  rich  in  valuable 
instruction.  Besides  the  lessons  of  patience  and  re- 
signation, it  taught  him  the  value  of  sympathy,  and 
of  some  of  the  virtues  that  dwell  almost  exclusively 
in  the  sick-room,  —  the  endurance  and  unwearied 
tenderness  of  woman,  and  the  value  of  those  name- 
less services,  that  the  poorest  individual  may  render, 
but  which  the  mines  of  Peru  can  never  repay  ;  and  it 
added  new  strength  and  delicacy  to  the  bonds  of 
friendship  he  was  just  beginning  to  form  with  many 
of  his  parish.  The  first  time  he  preached,  instead  of 
the  usual  addresses  upon  the  mutual  duties  of  pastor 
and  people,  he  took  the  text  from  the  hundred  and 
nineteenth  Psalm:  —  'It  is  good  for  me  that  I  have 
been  afflicted  ' ;  and,  from  some  passages  of  the  ser- 


DISAPPOINTMENT    AND    TRIAL.  205 

mon,  we  learn  how  deeply  he  felt  the  uncertainty  of 
his  blessings,  and  that  sinking  of  the  heart  which 
debility  and  lassitude  impose. 

'  Sickness  teaches  us,  not  only  the  uncertain  tenure,  but 
the  utter  vanity  and  unsatisfactoriness,  of  the  dearest  objects 
of  human  pursuit.  Introduce  into  the  chamber  of  a  sick 
and  dying  man  the  whole  pantheon  of  idols  which  he  has 
vainly  worshipped,  —  fame,  wealth,  pleasure,  beauty,  power, 
—  what  miserable  comforters  are  they  all !  Bind  a  wreath 
of  laurel  round  his  brow,  and  see  if  it  will  assuage  his 
aching  temples.  Spread  before  him  the  deeds  and  instru- 
ments which  prove  him  the  lord  of  innumerable  possessions, 
and  see  if  you  can  beguile  him  of  a  moment's  anguish  ;  see 
if  he  will  not  give  you  up  those  barren  parchments  for  one 
drop  of  cool  water,  one  draught  of  pure  aii".  Go  tell  him, 
when  a  fever  rages  through  his  veins,  that  his  table  smokes 
with  luxuries,  that  the  wine  moveth  itself  aright  and  giveth 
its  color  in  the  cup,  and  see  if  this  will  calm  his  throbbing 
pulse.  Tell  him,  as  he  lies  prostrate,  helpless  and  sinking 
with  debility,  that  the  song  and  dance  are  ready  to  begin, 
and  that  all  without  him  is  life,  alacrity,  and  joy.  Nay, 
more,  place  in  his  motionless  hand  the  sceptre  of  a  mighty 
empire,  and  see  if  he  will  be  eager  to  grasp  it.  This,  my 
friends,  this  is  the  school  in  which  our  desires  must  be  dis- 
ciplined, and  our  judgments  of  ourselves  and  the  objects  of 
our  pursuit  corrected.' 

After  enumerating   some  of  the  lessons  taught  by 
sickness,  he  says  :  — 

'  We  beseech  you,  then,  do  not  mistake  us.  When  we 
discourse  to  you  of  the  beneficial  fruits  of  affliction,  we  talk 
of  no  secret  and  magical  power  which  sickness  possesses  to 
make  you  necessarily  and  immediately  good  and  wise  ;  but 
we  speak  of  fruits  which  must  form,  and  swell,  and  ripen, — 
fruits  which  time  must  mature  and  watchfulness  preserve. 
18 


206  LETTER  UPON  HIS  ILLNESS. 

We  represent  sickness- as  a  discipline  which  you  must  live 
to  improve,  —  a  medicine  whose  operation  cannot  be  ascer- 
tained if  the  patient  dies  in  the  experiment.  O,  defer  not, 
then,  I  beseech  you,  defer  not  to  the  frantic  hours  of  pain, 
to  the  feverish  hours  of  disease,  to  the  languishing  hours  of 
confinement,  —  defer  not  till  then  an  attention  to  the  things 
which  concern  your  everlasting  peace.  You  think  they 
will  be  hours  of  leisure.  Believe  me,  it  will  be  the  leisure 
of  distraction  or  insensibility  ;  —  it  may  be  the  leisure  of 
death.' 

As  none  of  his  family  could  be  with  him  during 
his  illness,  he  became  acquainted  with  many  of  his 
parish  in  the  most  interesting  relation,  that  of  corji- 
forters  and  cheerers  of  the  slow  hours  of  convales- 
cence, and  he  formed  ties  of  gratitude  that  were  never 
broken. 

His  father  wrote  to  him  every  three  or  four  days 
during  his  illness.     One  letter  only  is  inserted. 

'  Feb.  9th,  1805. 

'  My  beloved  Son,  —  We  enter  deeply  into  your  suffer- 
ing situation,  rendered  so  peculiarly  trying  to  you  by  the 
time  at  which  it  has  fallen  on  you,  just  as  you  had  received 
the  charge  of  a  church,  and  expected  to  appear  before  them 
as  their  minister  ;  but  God  is  the  rock,  his  work  is  perfect. 
He  knows  how  to  time,  influence,  and  overrule  all  his  dis- 
pensations towards  us.  You  and  I,  perhaps,  both  needed 
this  check  to  our  vanity,  and  this  sensible  conviction  of  our 
frailty  and  dependence,  not  upon  ourselves,  but  upon  him. 
It  becomes  us  to  receive  evil  as  well  as  good  from  the  hand 
of  God,  and  we  shall  find  it  good  for  us  to  hope  and  quietly 
wait  for  his  salvation.  All  things  shall  work  together  for 
our  good  if  we  love  him,  and  are  called  according  to  his 
purposes. 

'  I  feel  confidence  that  you  are  in  the  midst  of  friends, 


CORRESPONDENCE.  2.  7 

who  will  do  every  thing  in  their  power  to  relieve  and  help 
you.  Endeavor  to  be  submissive,  my  dear  son,  and  place 
your  ultimate  hope  and  dependence  upon  Him  who  is  able 
to  bring  sweetness  out  of  affliction.  I  trust  you  will  find  it 
good  that  you  have  been  afflicted.  It  may,  perhaps,  furnish 
you  with  thoughts  and  reflections  that  will  enable  you  the 
more  tenderly  to  sympathize  with  your  afflicted  people, 
when  you  shall  be  called  to  see  them  and  to  administer  to 
them  the  consolations  wherewith  you  have  yourself  been 
comforted  of  God.  We  hope,  also,  it  may  be  the  means 
of  making  a  change  in  your  constitution  that  shall  relieve 
you  of  the  malady  with  which  you  have  been  exercised. 
Endeavor,  my  son,  to  preserve  your  mind  as  free  as  possi- 
ble from  anxiety.  Your  pulpit  shall  be  supplied.  "  Commit 
your  way  to  the  Lord  and  he  shall  establish  it ;  trust  also  in 
him,  and  he  will  bring  it  to  pass."  Although  your  pains 
are  severe  and  weakening,  we  trust  they  are  not  dangerous. 
If  your  disorder  should  put  on  any  fresh  appearance,  I  shall 
endeavor  to  go  up  and  see  you,  although  my  calls  at  home 
are  a  forbidding  circumstance  to  such  a  journey.  I  hope 
Mr.  Thacher  will  continue  to  write  as  often  as  he  thinks 
proper,  and  that  we  shall  soon  hear  pleasant  tidings  from 
you  ;  but  we  must  refer  all  to  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
God.  Good  night,  my  son.  I  hope  you  will  sleep  in  ease 
and  quietness.' 

That  even  long  after  his  recovery  he  felt  deeply 
the  weight  of  responsibilty  he  had  taken  upon  him- 
self, appears  from  a  sermon  written  in  the  course  of 
the  year. 

'  My  grace,  says  Jesus  to  the  drooping  apostle,  my  grace 
is  sufficient  for  thee.  Sufficient  for  what  ?  For  health,  life, 
toil  ?  Yes,  my  friends,  and  for  the  duties  of  a  profession, 
of  which  no  one  knew  better  than  this  feeble  apostle  the 
labors  and  the  responsibility.     In  a  frame  weak  as  the  reed 


208  EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS. 

which  every  blast  bends  to  the  dust,  he  bore  a  spirit  which 
disdained  the  iron  gripe  of  adversity  ;  a  spirit  which  perse- 
cution only  wrought  up  to  exertions  almost  miraculous  ; 
a  spirit  which  death  itself  could  only  set  free  to  expatiate  in 
the  rewards  to  which  it  had  continually  aspired.  That 
eloquent  apostle  understood  well  the  various  duties  which 
are  implied  in  the  cure  of  souls,  —  of  souls,  my  friends,  the 
most  precious  gems  in  the  circle  of  God's  gifts  to  his 
creation.  And  they  are  to  be  preserved,  too,  for  God 
himself;  they  are  to  be  prepared,  not  for  earth  only,  but 
for  heaven,  —  to  be  cleared  from  all  the  dross  that  now 
incrusts  them,  and  purified  for  a  region  of  spirits,  where  all 
is  pure,  intellectual,  and  godlike.  He,  then,  who  would  fit 
men.  for  heaven  must  consult,  in  the  exercise  of  his  pastoral 
duties,  all  the  grades  of  human  capacity,  and,  what  is  more, 
all  the  varieties  of  human  disposition.  He  must  accomplish 
in  himself  that  rare  union  of  prudence  and  zeal,  of  caution 
and  earnestness,  which  it  is  the  hai'dest  problem  in  human 
character  to  combine.  He  has  to  secure  the  reception  of 
the  Gospel  with  which  he  is  put  in  trust,  principally  by 
throwing  light  upon  the  darkened  understandings,  or  by 
seizing  upon  the  avenues  to  the  hardened  heart.  A  coui'se 
of  instruction  that  might  gain  the  superficial  would  revolt 
the  wise;  and  the  rich,  the  enlightened,  or  the  consequential 
hearer  may  be  charmed,  while  the  poor  and  the  ignorant 
may  be  perishing  in  silence,  disappointment,  or  want. 
Paul,  when  he  harangued  the  polite  Athenians,  or  addressed 
the  judges  of  the  Areopagus,  selected  topics  and  employed 
a  style  which  would  not  have  gained  a  bigoted  Jew  within 
tlie  precincts  of  the  temple.  The  discourse  which  almost 
persuaded  the  noble  Agrippa  to  be  a  Christian  is  the  most 
classical  and  eloquent  in  the  Acts.  It  is  clothed  in  lan- 
guage which  would  not  have  betrayed  the  native  of  Tarsus 
in  the  most  polished  circle  of  Greece.  The  Epistle  to  the 
Hebrews,  on  the  contrary,  if  it  be  really  the  work  of  the 
Apostle,  is  filled  with  arguments  of  which  the  force  could 


EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS.  209 

be  felt  only  by  a  superstitious  adherent  to  the  old  Mosaic 
ceremonies,  but  which  would  have  been  to  the  Athenians 
ridiculous  and  unintelligible.  So,  also,  at  the  present  day, 
a  wise  and  faithful  pastor  cannot  hope  to  reclaim  an  acute 
and  polished  skeptic  by  the  usual  appeals  to  authority,  or  by 
bringing  up  in  array  the  commonplaces  of  theology.  A 
delicate  and  sensitive  spirit,  open,  candid,  and  seeking 
earnestly  for  the  truth,  is  not  to  be  treated  like  a  bigoted 
understanding,  obscured  with  prejudice  acquired  too  early 
to  be  remembered,  and  incrusted  too  deep  to  be  washed 
away  with  persuasion.  There  are  some  man,  of  strong, 
unpolished,  native  intellect,  who  are  affected  by  reasonings, 
illusti'ations,  and  persuasions  far  different  from  those  adapted 
to  minds  which  have  been  enriched  by  the  learning  or  pol- 
ished by  the  taste  of  the  times.  In  the  differences,  too,  of 
opinion  which  will  be  found  among  believers,  the  aged  and 
opinionated  must  see  that  his  opinions  are  respected,  even 
when  they  ai-e  doubted  ;  and  he  must  not  always  suppose 
them  to  be  believed  when  they  have  not  been  controverted. 
The  young  and  the  presumptuous  must  be  checked  with 
caution,  lest  he  should  become  indifferent  or  hostile  ;  but  he 
must  be  seasonably  converted,  lest  he  should  perish  in  the 
vanity  of  fashionable  unbelief,  or  the  pride  of  intellectual 
speculations.  In  short,  Christianity  is  to  be  recommended 
to  all  the  various  measures  of  human  capacity,  now  by 
reasonings,  then  by  persuasion ;  here  by  removing  preju- 
dices, and  there  by  strengthening  them  ;  sometimes  by 
appeals  to  the  heart,  sometimes  to  the  intellect,  sometimes 
to  the  hopes,  and  sometimes  to  the  fears  ;  in  one  word,  by 
means  as  various  as  the  minds  which  the  light  of  celestial 

truth  is  intended  by  its  Author  to  illumine 

'  Consider,  too,  that  all  these  complicated  duties  of  the 
Christian  minister  are  enjoined  by  especial  sanctions.  He 
is  immediately  and  peculiarly  responsible  to  his  God.  In 
his  eye,  the  day  of  his  examination  is  perpetually  present. 
Hardly  dare  I  speak  to  you  on  this  subject,  my  friends. 
18* 


"2139  EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS. 

Hardly  dare  I  to  think  of  the  inexpressible  anguish  with 
which  I  should  learn,  in  that  solemn  day  of  my  account, 
that  this  man  was  made  an  unbeliever  by  some  unwise 
statement  of  mine ;  this  youth  was  fixed  in  an  error,  which 
has  colored  his  whole  life,  by  my  injudicious  treatment  of 
his  doubts ;  this  gay  spirit  was  lost  by  my  omitting  an 
opportunity  of  making  a  serious  impression  upon  his  heart, 
while  it  was  intenerated  by  sorrow  ;  that  fine  understanding 
was  shattered  by  an  affliction,  which  I  might  have  assisted 
him  to  bear,  had  I  communicated  earlier  the  consolations  of 
the  Gospel  to  his  heart,  and  here  is  a  dear  friend,  whose 
sin  I  neglected  to  reprove  ;  how  awfully  is  his  account 
lengthened  because  I  stood  beside  him  a  silent  witness  of  a 
single  fault !  But  the  subject  is  too  painful,  I  will  not 
pursue  it. 

'  0  God,  I  prostrate  myself  in  the  dust  before  thee,  and 
acknowledge  my  insufficiency !  What  in  me  is  dark,  do 
thou  illumine ;  what  is  low,  raise  and  support  ;  what  is 
wavering,  establish ;  what  is  weak,  strengthen ;  what  is 
wrong,  forgive !  Let  but  thy  blessing  follow  me,  and  then 
what  is  sown  in  weakness  shall  be  raised  in  power,  to  thy 
glory  and  to  everlasting  life.' 

Mr.  Buckminster  wanted  a  few  months  of  twenty- 
one  years,  when  he  began  his  ministry  in  one  of  the 
largest  societies  in  Boston.  By  the  conditions  of  the 
will  by  which  the  parsonage-house  was  given  to  the 
Brattle  Street  parish,  in  perpetuity,  the  minister  for 
the  time  being  is  obliged  to  make  it  the  place  of  his 
constant  residence.  Convenient,  and  in  many  re- 
spects eligible,  it  is,  by  its  public  and  exposed  situa- 
tion, near  the  courts  and  lawyers'  offices,  and  not  far 
from  the  commercial  part  of  the  city,  a  noisy  abode 
for  one  who  wishes,  in  his  hours  of  retirement,  to  be 
a  diligent  and  absorbed  student.     Its  accessibility  to 


MK.  buckminster's  suudy.  211 

the  then  busiest  part  of  the  town  exposed  him  to 
perpetual  interruptions  in  the  day-time,  and  led  to 
the  habit  of  prolonging  his  hours  of  study  far  into  the 
night.  The  house  was  also  too  large  for  one  who  had 
no  family,  and  no  prospect  of  forming  family  con- 
nections. He  went  into  the  house,  therefore,  as  a 
boarder  with  the  persons  already  there,  reserving  a 
large  and  pleasant  room  for  his  study.  This  was 
soon  made  extremely  attractive  by  the  number  of 
books  it  was  his  delight  to  collect,  and  by  the  inter- 
esting pamphlets  and  literature  of  the  day,  scattered 
all  over  his  round  study-table.  It  was  the  centre  of 
attraction  for  all  his  young  friends,  and  for  the  elders 
among  the  clergy,  and  was  soon  called  the  '  minis- 
ters' exchange.' 

Soon  after,  for  his  own  private  recreation,  he  added 
a  chamber  organ  to  his  room,  where,  in  the  pauses  of 
his  hours  of  study,  he  delighted  to  indulge  his  pas- 
sion for  music.  It  was  at  first  a  solitary  recreation, 
but  soon  he  induced  his  choir  to  meet  there  to  prac- 
tise J  and  in  subsequent  years  he  had  concerts  in  his 
house. 

If  any  among  the  living  remember  this  study,  they 
will  recollect  its  cheerful  aspect  in  the  sunshine  of 
winter,  and  the  air  of  retirement  that  was  given  to  it 
by  the  closed  blinds  in  summer,  and,  above  all,  the 
cordial,  the  cheering,  the  glowing  expression  of  affec- 
tionate kindness  with  which  he  welcomed  his  friends. 
Here  were  passed  his  happiest  days,  in  pursuits  most 
congenial,  and  perhaps  too  attractive,  for  his  uncertain 
health  and  frail  organization.  Fortunately,  the  office 
of  a  clergyman  in  Boston  does  not  allow  of  exclusive 
devotion  to  study.     To  borrow  the  words  of  another, 


212  INTIMATE    CONNECTION 

'  It  is  the  general  habit  of  the  place  for  the  individuals 
of  each  society  to  make  their  minister  a  part  almost 
of  their  families,  a  sharer  of  their  joys  and  sorrows, — 
one  who  has  always  access  to  them,  and  is  always 
welcomed  with  distinguished  confidence  and  affec- 
tion  This  intimate  connection  with  his  peo- 
ple, although,  to  a  man  of  any  sensibility,  a  source 
of  the  most  exquisite  gratifications  of  the  human 
heart,  makes  a  great  addition  to  his  toils.  It  makes 
a  deep  inroad  upon  the  time  he  would  give  to  study, 
and  almost  compels  him  to  redeem  it  from  the  hours 
which  ought  to  be  given  to  exercise  or  repose.  By 
the  variety  and  painful  interest,  also,  of  the  scenes 
and  occupations  to  which  it  calls  him,  the  mind  is 
often  agitated  and  worn  down ;  while  the  reflection, 
which  it  is  impossible  always  to  exclude,  of  the 
insufficient  ability  with  which  his  duties  are  per- 
formed, and  the  inadequate  returns  he  can  make  for 
the  friendship  and  confidence  he  receives,  must  often 
come  over  and  oppress  his  spirits.'  * 

The  above  remarks  apply  more  directly  to  the  rela- 
tion which  existed  between  ministers  and  people  in 
the  good  city  of  Boston,  at  the  close  of  the  last  cen- 
tury. Ministers  were  then  expected  to  spend  a  very 
large  portion  of  their  time  in  visiting  the  ditferent 
families  of  their  parishes.  The  intimacy  was  so  close 
that  every  joy  and  sorrow,  every  item  of  good  for- 
tune, and  every  trial,  however  light,  was  imparted  to 
the  sympathizing  friend.  The  infant,  from  the  hour 
of  its  baptism,  was  one  of  the  lambs  of  his  flock.  If 
a  boy,  his  progress  was  watched  through  the  succes- 
sive schools,  and  after  he  entered  the  college  or  the 

*  Memoir  by  Mr.  Thacher. 


OF    MINISTERS    WITH    THEIR    PARISHES.  213 

conn  ting-room.  If  a  daughter,  the  minister  fixed  his 
paternal  and  indulgent  eye  upon  her,  till  he  was  called 
to  consecrate  her  union,  probably  with  another  of  his 
flock  ;  and  at  the  marriage-supper,  the  honored  place 
at  the  left  hand  of  the  bride  was  reserved  for  him. 

The  minister  and  his  flock  passed  through  life,  ren- 
dering to  each  other  countless  mutual  services  ;  and, 
when  the  pastor  stood  at  the  grave  of  a  parishioner, 
paying  the  last  tribute  of  earth  to  earth,  he  felt  as 
though  he  had  lost  a  member  of  his  household.  The 
sermons  of  such  a  minister  could  be  neither  searching 
nor  pungent.  He  looked  so  nearly  into  his  parish, 
that  their  faults  must  have  been  lost  to  the  mental 
eye,  by  the  thousand  excuses  he  was  impelled  to 
make  for  them.  Then  he  could  scarcely  speak  of 
faults  and  follies  which  he  had  observed,  without 
making  an  application  so  distinct  as  to  rend  the  veil 
of  charity  which  should  cover  a  multitude  of  sins. 

The  young  ministers  who  were  settled  at  the  be- 
ginning of  this  century  found  it  necessary  to  modifj'' 
in  some  degree  the  custom  of  the  place,  —  to  spend 
less  time  at  the  social  fireside  and  more  at  the  study- 
table.  If  they  would  render  their  sermons  such  as 
would  satisfy  themselves,  and  such  as  their  societies 
demanded,  they  must  give  up  the  enjoyment  of  the 
almost  daily  hospitality  of  some  kind  parishioner; 
and  the  fine  leg  of  mutton  or  the  famous  turkey  must 
be  eaten  without  the  blessing  being  asked  over  it  by 
the  favorite  minister.  The  time  which  was  gained 
by  briefer  and  less  frequent  visits  was  devoted  to  the 
mental  preparation,  by  which  their  sermons  gained  in 
richness  of  thought,  in  power  and  eloquence.  Cer- 
tainly there   is  no   place   on  the  face   of  the   globe, 


214  DELIGHT    IN    MUSIC. 

where  discourses  from    the    pulpit  are   of   a   higher 
standard  of  excellence  than  in  Boston. 

That  Mr.  Buckminster  began,  immediately  after  his 
ordination,  to  acquaint  himself  intimately  with  his 
parish, 'appears  from  a  manuscript  book,  alphabetically 
arranged,  of  every  family,  and  of  many  persons,  be- 
longing to  the  Brattle  Street  society.  The  number 
of  persons  forming  the  different  families,  the  occupa- 
tion of  the  parents,  the  names  of  the  children,  are 
recorded  ;  then  are  added,  in  Latin  or  French,  re- 
marks, notices,  and  characteristics,  important  only  for 
him  to  know  as  their  friend  and  spiritual  adviser. 

The  object  that  next  claimed  his  warmest  interest 
and  attention  was  the  singing  of  the  choir  of  Brattle 
Street  Church.  I  have  mentioned  his  exquisite  ear, 
and  the  passionate  love  of  music  that  appeared  in  his 
earliest  years.  Before  he  went  to  Exeter  Academy, 
he  had  learned  to  blow  the  flute,  but  was  discouraged 
by  his  father,  who  feared  the  effect  upon  his  health. 
He  afterwards  took  some  lessons  on  the  violin  and 
violoncello,  but  relinquished  them,  as  creating  a  too 
passionate  love,  that  encroached  upon  his  other 
studies  ;  but,  as  soon  as  he  could  unite  his  favorite 
pursuit  with  the  improvement  of  the  church  music, 
he  began  to  learn  to  play  upon  the  organ.  His  own 
voice  was  eminently  musical,  and  his  enthusiasm  was 
scarcely  permitted  any  bounds  when  he  could  induce 
a  fine  voice  of  either  male  or  female  performer  to  join 
the  choir.  One  evening  in  the  week  was  devoted  to 
rehearsing  with  the  church  singers  in  his  own  study, 
and  these  were  truly  his  hours  of  relaxation  and 
delight.     He  was  sometimes  so  fascinated   and  lost 


MEETINGS    FOR    RELIGIOUS    IMPROVEBIENT.  [215 

in  the  sounds  he  could  himself  draw  from  the  organ, 
that  his  sister,  leaving  him  after  one  of  these  evenings, 
and  thinking  he  would  immediately  retire,  awoke,  far 
in  the  night,  still  hearing  the  organ  from  his  study, 
and,  upon  going  down,  found  him  still  sitting  at  the 
instrument,  wholly  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time. 

A  few  years  after,  he  assisted  in  making  a  collec- 
tion of  tunes  for  sacred  music.  He  devoted  much 
time  and  labor  in  comparing  and  arranging  such  as 
were  suited,  either  from  their  intrinsic  value  or  from 
their  sacred  or  tender  associations,  to  the  worship  of 
the  church ;  and  I  believe  the  Brattle  Street  Collec- 
tion, though  small,  is  esteemed  a  valuable  selection 
of  tunes,  even  by  nmsicians. 

One  other  evening  in  the  week  was  devoted  at  this 
time  to  young  men  of  his  own  age,  and  even  younger, 
whom  he  could  induce  to  meet  him  at  his  study  and 
converse  upon  moral  and  religious  subjects.  There 
was  no  formality  in  this  meeting.  It  was  not  called 
a  prayer-meeting,  nor  a  meeting  for  inquiry ;  no  pub- 
licity was  given  to  it,  and  those  who  attended  it  were 
not  subjected  to  observation  from  others.  Induced 
by  his  invitation,  or  by  the  attractiveness  which  his 
own  youth  gave  to  religion,  many  went  to  open  to 
him  their  anxieties,  to  satisfy  an  inquiring  spirit,  to 
seek  direction  for  a  doubting  mind,  to  find  a  bahn  for 
an  awakened  conscience,  or  to  inquire  the  path  to 
religious  peace.  Privacy  was  secured  by  removing 
the  light  from  the  entry,  which  usually  indicated  that 
he  was  from  home,  and  the  evening  was  closed  with 
prayer.  One  of  the  objects  of  this  meeting  was  to 
suggest  and  to  lend  books  to  those  young  persons 
who  evinced  a  taste  for  reading  and  self-improvement. 


216  HANNAH    ADAMs's 

May  we  not  suppose  that  many  yonng  men,  who 
afterwards  led  eminently  Christian  lives,  received 
some  of  their  best  religious  impressions  from  these 
evening  meetings? 

About  this  time  he  corrected  for  the  press  Miss 
Hannah  Adams's  History  of  New  England,  and  made 
such  aherations  for  a  second  edition  as  were  advisa- 
ble to  render  the  book  as  plain  and  familiar  as  was 
consistent  with  elegance  of  style.  By  this  and  other 
acts  of  friendship,  he  secured  the  grateful  attachment 
of  that  simple,  unassuming  nature,  the  childlike  inno- 
cency  of  whose  mind  and  manners  formed  a  curious 
contrast  with  the  abstruse  character  of  her  investiga- 
tions and  pursuits. 

At  a  little  later  period  of  his  life,  while  Miss  Adams 
was  compiling  her  history  of  the  Jews,  the  most  fre- 
quent visiters  to  his  study  perceived,  as  they  entered, 
seated  at  the  same  table  with  him,  diligently  compil- 
ing her  notes,  and  abstracted  completely  from  present 
things,  the  unassuming  and  plainly  attired  form  of 
this  simple  old  lady.  She  was  so  familiar  and  so 
quiet,  that,  though  they  pursued  their  studies  many 
days  and  weeks  together,  they  never  disturbed  or 
interrupted  each  other.  The  author  of  the  Memoir 
of  Miss  Adams*  has  given  so  interesting  an  account 
of  their  intercourse,  that  the  writer  avails  herself  of  it 
here. 

'  It  was  on  a  visit  to  Boston  that  Miss  Adams  first  saw 
Mr.  Buckminster.  He  was  then  about  sixteen  years  old. 
Those  who  knew  him  well  will  not  think  her  description  an 
exaggerated  one.     "  He  had  then,"  she  said,  "  the  bloom  of 

*  Mrs.  George  G.  Lee. 


DESCRIPTION    OF    MR.    BUCKMINSTER.  217 

health  on  his  cheek,  and  the  fire  of  genius  in  his  eye  ;  I  did 
not  know  from  which  world  he  came,  whether  from  heaven 
or  earth."  Though  so  young,  he  entered  fully  into  her 
character,  and,  before  they  parted,  gave  her  a  short  but 
comprehensive  sketch  of  the  state  of  literature  in  France 
and  Germany.  After  he  became  the  pastor  of  Brattle 
Street  Church,  he,  with  Mr.  Stephen  Higginson  and  Mr. 
Shaw,  the  active  founder  of  the  Athenseum,  proposed  to 
Miss  Adams  to  remove  to  Boston;  at  the  same  time' pro- 
curing for  her,  through  the  liberal  subscription  of  a  few 
gentlemen  and  ladies,  an  annuity  for  life.  She  had  then 
commenced  her  History  of  the  Jews,  and  nothing  could 
have  been  more  favorable  to  its  progress  or  her  own  ease  of 
mind,  than  this  benevolent  arrangement.  She  could  never 
speak  of  her  benefactors  without  deep  emotion. 

'  From  Mr.  Buckminster  she  received  the  most  judicious 
and  extensive  assistance.  She  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting 
him  in  his  study,  and  had  his  invitation  to  come  when  she 
pleased,  and  sit  and  read  as  long  as  she  pleased,  or  to  take 
any  books  home  and  use  them  like  her  own.  Perhaps 
people  are  never  perfectly  easy  with  each  other  till  they 
feel  at  liberty  to  be  silent  in  each  other's  society.  It  was 
stipulated  between  these  students  that  neither  party  should 
be  obliged  to  talk.  But  her  own  language  will  best  describe 
her  feelings.  "  Mr.  Buckminster  would  sometimes  read 
for  hours  without  speaking.  But,  occasionally,  flashes  of 
genius  would  break  forth  in  some  short  observation  or 
sudden  remark,  which  electrified  me.  I  never  could  have 
gone  on  with  my  history  without  the  use  of  his  library.  I 
was  indebted  to  him  for  a  new  interest  in  life.  He  intro- 
duced me  to  a  valuable  circle  of  friends ;  and  it  was 
through  him  that  I  became  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Bowdoin, 
(afterwards  Mrs.  Dearborn,)  whose  kindness  and  attention 
to  me  have  been  unceasing.  Mr.  Buckminster's  character 
was  the  perfection  of  humanity.  His  intellectual  powers 
were  highly  cultivated  and  ennobled.  Yet  even  the  aston- 
19 


218  PERSONAL    QUALITIES, 

ishing  vigor  and  brightness  of  his  intellect  was  outdone  by 
the  goodncf^^s  of  his  heart." 

'  Mr.  Buckniinster  assisted  Miss  Adams's  researches,  and 
procured  her  information  for  her  Histoiy  of  the  Jews.  He 
took  a  warm  interest  in  this  oppressed  people,  and  often 
prayed  for  them  at  the  communion  service  in  the  same 
language  in  which  Jesus  prayed  for  them  :  "  Father,  forgive 
them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  !  " 

'  It  is  impossible  not  to  look  back  with  admiration  upon 
the  benevolence  that  prompted  these  kind  attentions  ;  and  it 
is  not  a  difficult  effort  of  the  imagination  to  enter  the 
library,  and  view  these  laborious  and  widely  dissimilar 
students  together.  The  one  distinguished  by  the  natural 
ease,  grace,  and  elegance  of  his  manners  ;  the  other,  timid 
and  helpless.  The  one,  advancing  with  the  elastic  step  of 
youth  ;  the  other,  declining  into  the  vale  of  yeare  ;  yet 
both  drawn  together  by  those  sympathies  which  spring  from 
the  fountain  of  perfect  and  everlasting  good.  Who  would 
not  be  touched  by  the  spectacle,'  adds  Mrs.  Lee,  '  of  a 
young  man  of  such  distinguished  talents,  equally  sought  by 
the  world  of  science  and  of  fashion,  extending  a  helping 
hand  and  devoting  so  large  a  portion  of  his  time  to  a  timid 
and  unassuming  woman,  shrinking  from  the  ills  of  life,  but 
who  derived  her  happiness  from  the  same  sources  that  he 
did,  —  literature  and  religion.^  When,  from  indisposition, 
she  omitted  for  any  length  of  time  her  visits  to  his  study,  a 
kind  note,  or  a  still  kinder  visit,  alleviated  the  infirmities  of 
of  her  health.'  * 

Miss  Adams  herself  remarks  :  —  'I  could  not  have 
completed  my  History  of  the  Jews,  if  I  had  not  been 
animated  and  encouraged  by  his  participating  in  the 
interest  I  felt  in  this  extraordinary  people.  Though 
entering  into  the  details  of  the  sufferings  of  the  per- 

*  From  Mrs.  George  G.  Lee's  Memoir  of  Miss  Hannah  Adams. 


PERSONAL    QUALITIES.  219 

seculed  Jewish  nation,  yet  the  enthusiasm  of  Mr. 
Biickminster  inspired  me,  and  the  pleasure  of  con- 
versing with  him  upon  a  subject  with  which  he 
was  intimately  acquainted  rendered  the  time  I  was 
writing  my  History  one  of  the  happiest  periods  of 
my  life. 

This  was  only  one  of  many  instances  in  which  he 
encouraged,  animated,  and  helped  the  timid  and  the 
unassuming,  and  aided  retiring  merit.  Among  his 
private  papers  are  many  memorandums  of  sums  ob- 
tained from  ladies  of  his  parish  for  the  indigent,  or 
for  those  who,  like  Miss  Adams,  asked  only  the  en- 
couragement and  sympathy  of  friendship.  His  calls 
upon  their  bounty  seem  never  to  have  been  denied  ; 
and  among  those  whose  names  appear,  Mrs.  Bowdoin, 
Winthrop,  Lyman,  Otis,  Mrs.  S.  Cobb,  —  all  have  gone 
to  reap  the  reward  of  their  beneficence. 

Perhaps  there  never  was  a  period  in  the  whole  of 
his  short  life,  when  he  was  more  attractive  to  his 
friends,  or  more  valuable  to  society.  His  activity  was 
unwearied,  his  cheerfulness  had  known  no  blight ;  for 
the  uncertainty  that  hung  over  his  life  was  habitual 
to  his  thoughts,  and  was  merely  a  check  to  the  too 
impetuous  pursuit  of  the  riches  of  the  mind. 

'  So  winning  was  his  aspect  and  address, 
His  smile  so  rich  in  bright  felicities, 
Accordant  to  a  voice  which  charmed  no  less, 
That  who  but  saw  him  once,  remembered  long; 
And  s;ime  in  whom  such  images  are  strong, 
Have  hoarded  the  impression  in  their  heart, 
Fancy's  fond  dreams  and  memory's  joys  among, 
Like  some  loved  relic  of  romantic  song, 
Or  cherished  master-piece  of  ancient  art.' 


920  PERSONAL    QUALITIES. 

Since  his  settlement,  his  malady  had  very  much 
increased.  He  had  scarcely  been  settled  ten  months, 
when  he  wrote  in  his  journal,  October  31st,  1805, — 
'  Another  fit  of  epilepsy.  I  think  I  perceive  my 
memory  fails  me  !     O  God,  save  me  from  that  hour!  ' 

And  yet,  notwithstanding  this  perpetual  admonition 
of  his  frailty,  there  never  was  a  person  in  whom  life 
was  more  joyous  and  gladsome.  He  had  a  great  deal 
of  the  Greek  in  his  disposition.  He  entered  deeply 
into  life.  Every  thing  in  nature,  every  external  ob- 
ject of  life  and  beauty,  was  a  source  of  joy  to  him. 
His  intimate  friend  and  biographer  observes,  '  His 
head  resembled  the  finest  models  of  the  antique,'  — 
and  though  certainly  the  form  of  the  head  is  not  an 
infallible  sign  of  the  intellectual  powers,  yet  the  char- 
acter here  conformed  to  the  head.  Life,  sentient  life, 
was  exuberant  in  him,  like  a  morning  in  spring.  He 
saw  harmony,  and  grace,  and  beauty  every  where, 
from  the  smallest  flower  that  sips  the  dew  to  the 
brightest  star  that  shines  in  the  firmament. 

'  The  meanest  floweret  of  the  vale, 
The  simplest  note  that  swells  the  gale, 
The  common  sun,  the  air,  the  skies. 
To  him  were  opening  paradise.' 

Although  he  was  eminently  spiritual,  and  the  un- 
seen world  was  not  a  world  of  shadows,  but  of 
realities,  to  him,  there  was  nothing  mystical  in  the 
tendencies  of  his  mind.  What  would  have  been  the 
result  of  the  German  studies  which  he  was  just  be- 
ginning at  his  death,  can  only  be  conjectured.  The 
mystical  element  might  have  been  developed  as  he 
proceeded  in  his  inquiries.     The  joyousness  of  the 


DEATH    OF    BIRS.    BUCKMINSTER.  221 

present  might  have  been  lost  in  imsuccessfnl  research- 
es after  the  obscure  and  hidden  ;  and  the  rational 
interpretation  of  that  which  was  vouchsafed  to  his 
serious  studies,  might  have  been  involved  in  gropings 
after  the  impenetrable  secrets  of  the  future. 

To  return  for  a  few  moments  to  Dr.  Buckminster. 
He  was  at  this  time  passing  through  one  of  the 
severest  afflictions  of  his  life,  and,  although  only  fifty- 
four  years  old,  there  appeared  to  be  a  general  break- 
ing up  of  the  fountains  of  health.  The  immediate 
cause  was  the  death  of  his  wife,  to  whom  he  had 
been  attached  with  a  passionate  regard,  exceeding 
that  which  he  would  have  approved  in  another  to 
any  earthly  object.  She  had  formed,  as  he  says  in 
one  of  his  letters,  '  the  happiness  and  the  ornament  of 
his  home,'  and  now  he  was  bereft  of  the  sweetness  of 
life.  His  son,  recording  her  death  in  his  journal, 
writes  with  fervor,  '  O  God,  support  my  dear  father ! ' 
To  afford  his  own  aid  in  comforting  him,  he  went 
immediately  to  Portsmouth,  and  spent  more  than  a 
week,  preaching  for  his  father  two  Sabbaths. 

Although  her  illness  had  been  long,  her  death  at 
the  last  was  sudden  and  unexpected.  It  threw 
my  father  into  an  agony  of  grief,  in  which  his 
friends  feared  for  his  life  or  his  reason.  The  whole 
of  the  night  and  day  following  her  decease,  he  re- 
mained overwhelmed  with  sorrow,  his  agitated  foot- 
steps pacing  to  and  fro  in  his  study,  so  that  even  his 
children  feared  to  approach  him.  He  was  left  with  a 
family  of  seven  children,  four  of  them  being  very 
young.  His  eldest  daughters  were  now  old  enough 
to  take  charge  of  the  family,  and  he,  soon  recovering 
19* 


222  CORRESPONDENCE. 

his  calmness  and  faith,  presided  over  them  with  a 
firmness  and  decision  scarcely  looked  for  in  a  man  so 
tender  in  his  affections.  But  it  is  the  hardest  and 
finest  of  materials,  that,  when  drawn  out  into  delicate 
chords,  vibrates  at  every  breath,  and  thrills  at  the 
touch  of  joy  or  sorrow. 

My  father  was  very  anxious  to  keep  his  fam- 
ily together,  and  that  they  should  depend  upon 
the  sentiment  of  affection  and  union  for  their  hap- 
piness. I  have  endeavored  to  express  the  intensity  of 
the  religious  sentiment  in  his  life  ;  he  was  no  less 
anxious  to  enforce  the  absence  of  all  worldliness,  and 
the  dependence  of  the  heart  upon  spiritual  good  and 
mutual  affection,  as  the  aliment  of  life  to  his  family. 
It  may,  perhaps,  provoke  a  smile,  in  these  days,  when 
material  interests  are  so  supreme,  and  life  seems  mean 
and  homely  without  the  addition  of  luxury,  to  say, 
that  his  family  enjoyed  many  of  the  best  luxuries  of 
the  mind,  and  felt  themselves  rich,  when  his  income 
could  never  have  reached  the  amount  of  a  thousand 
dollars  a  year.  With  this  sum,  at  a  time  when  the 
expenses  of  an  education  were  much  less  than  at 
present,  he  was  able  to  educate  both  his  sons  at  Har- 
vard University. 

The  letters  of  my  brother  that  follow  close  the 
year. 

'  August,  1805. 

'  My  dear  Sister,  —  I  have  purchased  a  very  beautiful 
little  book,*  which  I  wish  you  to  accept,  though  you  have 
not,  as  the  lady  to  whom  these  letters  were  addressed,  been 
presented  with  a  set  of  the  British  poets,  (which  I  hope, 
however,  one  day  to  be  able  to    send  you,)   for  some  of 

*  Aiken's  Letters  upon  the  British  Poets. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  223 

them  I  know  often  amuse  the  leisure  of  young  ladies,  and  I 
trust  will  not  long  be  unknown  to  you.  If  I  should  meet 
with  any  thing  equally  elegant  and  pleasing,  E.  shall  not  be 
forgotten.  These  letters  are  written  by  one  of  the  most 
correct  and  impartial  critics  now  living. 

'  I  know  not  but  I  ought  to  have  written  to  both  of  you 
while  you  were  left  alone  at  the  head  of  the  family  ;  if  I 
have  been  negligent,  let  this  acknowledgment  plead  my 
excuse.  I  hope,  by  the  time  this  letter  reaches  you,  you 
have  been  relieved  from  anxiety  by  my  father's  return. 
Write  to  me  particularly  about  the  state  of  his  health  ; 
whether  it  is  amended  by  the  journey ;  whether  the  inci- 
dents of  it  were  agreeable  ;  his  companion  pleasant ;  whether 
his  expectations  were  answered  ;  and,  above  all,  whether  his 
spirits  and  comfort  are  in  any  degree  recovei-ed.  Would  to 
God  that  the  duties  of  my  parish  had  allowed  me  to  be  his 
companion! 

'I  have  been  very  much  employed  of  late  in  parochial 
duty,  owing  to  the  great  sickness  among  children.  Within 
the  last  month,  I  have  attended  eleven  funerals. 

'  Your  affectionate  brother. 

'  P.  S.  I  hear  nothing  of  the  baby  and  nurse  in  any  of 
papa's  letters.  I  believe  he  thinks  me  a  kind  of  creature 
who  does  not  care  much  whether  you  are  dead  or  alive. 
However,  it  is  true  that  I  am  pretty  much  absorbed  in 
myself,  my  sermons,  my  parish,  my  singing,  and  other 
occupations.' 

'  December,  1805. 

'My  dear  Brother,  —  Nothing  has  given  me  more 
pleasure  than  to  hear  of  the  happy  turn  which  your  in- 
clinations have  taken  towards  study.  The  taste  for  it 
being  once  acquired,  it  will  not  easily  be  lost ;  but,  by 
God's  blessing,  will  preserve  you  from  many  temptations 
to  which  you  would  otherwise  be  exposed,  and  provide 
you  with  a  source  of  the  purest  pleasure  in  your  leisure 


224  CORRESPONDENCE. 

moments,  even  if  you  should  not  be  a  professional  man.  And 
it  is  not  necessary,  as  some  imagine,  my  dear  brother,  to 
study  one  of  the  professions  because  you  have  been  through 
the  preparatory  courses  of  college  studies.  They  will  adorn 
the  life  of  a  merchant  or  an  agriculturist,  and  be  to  you 
only  an  additional  incentive  to  any  honorable  pursuit. 

'  I  wish  you  to  be  thoroughly  grounded  in  your  Latin  and 
Greek  grammars.  With  a  perfect  knowledge  of  your  rules, 
every  thing  afterwards  in  parsing  and  construing  will  be 
easy.  But  a  deficiency  in  this  knowledge  is  very  seldom 
supplied  in  advancing  years.  The  preterites  in  Latin,  and 
the  anomalous  verbs  in  Greek,  are  of  great  importance  to  a 
correct  scholar.  No  man  can  presume  to  pass  in  England 
for  a  liberally  educated  man,  who  is  deficient  in  quantity,  or 
who  is  not  master  of  prosody,  and  therefore  makes  mistakes 
in  pronunciation.  The  knowledge  of  geography,  history, 
logic,  and  rhetoric  may  be  very  much  supplied  in  mature 
years ;  but  of  the  languages  it  cannot,  because  the  memory 
then  does  not  easily  retain  rules. 

'  Be  a  good,  regular,  studious  boy,  and  God  will  bless  you. 
If  you  are  not  a  learned  man,  you  may  be  what  is  much 
better,  a  pious  and  useful  one.  But  I  sincerely  hope,  that, 
as  your  mind  enlarges,  you  will  be  more  and  more  attached 
to  your  books.  It  will  give  me  the  truest  pleasure  to  hear 
that  you  are  growing  in  every  thing  good  and  honorable, 
and  that  one  of  these  days  you  will  feel  an  inclination  to 
come  and  study  with  your  brother,  Joseph.' 

'My  dear  Sisters,  —  I  thank  you  for  the  articles  for 
my  wardrobe.  I  could  not  but  think,  as  I  looked  at  the 
immense  number  of  stitches  that  you  have  set  for  your 
brother,  of  the  precious  moments  that  might  have  been 
better  employed.  I  send  you  a  book,*  that  will,  I  am  sure, 
agreeably  amuse  those  moments  that  you  can  spare  for 
reading. 

*  Knox's  Elegant  Extracts  from  the  British  Poets. 


CORRESPONDENCE.  225 

'  The  reason  of  my  not  writing  before  has  not  been 
illness ;  neither  ought  I  to  say  it  has  been  too  many  avoca- 
tions, for  a  man  can  always  find  time  to  pen  a  few  lines, 
though  the  press  of  business  may  make  him  forget  that  he 
ought  to  write,  and  this  has  been  my  case.  I  am  glad  you 
have  returned  to  the  pleasures  of  home,  and  I  doubt  not 
you  have  found  them  only  enhanced  by  the  variety  you 

have  seen  abroad.     As  to 's  French,  I  doubt  whether 

she  will  have  resolution  enough  to  master  the  first  difficulties 
without  assistance.  If  she  has  a  little  easy  introductory 
book,  of  which,  by  the  help  of  a  dictionary,  she  can  learn 
the  sense,  it  will  be  more  attractive  to  her  than  to  begin 
with  the  grammar.     If  not,  I  will  send  her  one. 

'  Thank  papa  for  the  book  he  sent  me,  and  not  the  less 
because  I  already  possess  it,  and  have  read  it.  "  The  Force 
of  Truth,"  or,  at  least,  the  force  of  conscience,  ought  to 
strike  a  person  very  powerfully,  who,  with  a  Socinian 
creed,  has  dared  to  subscribe,  or  to  hold  a  living,  in  a 
church  whose  articles  are  unquestionably  Trinitarian,  as 
was  the  case  with  Mr.  Scott. 

'  This  letter  is  as  rambling  as  a  young  lady's  at  a 
boarding-school.  I  will  bid  you  good  night,  my  dear 
sisters.  Peaceful  slumbers,  undisturbed  by  any  gay  recol- 
lections, be  your  night's  blessing.  You  have  left  a  good 
name  here  ;  remember,  it  can  be  preserved  only  by  real 
virtues,  —  benevolence  of  disposition,  a  cultivated  mind, 
and,  as  the  security  of  all  excellence,  an  inwrought  senti- 
ment of  piety  and  moral  obligation.  This  is  permanent ; 
good  feelvjig  is  momentary.  Read  Miss  Hamilton  on 
Keligious  Principle.  E.,  and  F.  also,  pray  read  it.  I  do 
not  mean  to  preach,  however. 

'  Your  brother,  J.  S.  B.' 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

ORDINATION     OF    A    CLASSMATE.  BIONTHLY    ANTHOLOGY. 

ANTHOLOGY    CLUB.  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  —  LETTERS. 

In  January,  1806,  Rev.  Charles  Lowell  was  settled 
at  the  West  Church  in  Boston.  He  and  Buckminster 
had  been  college  classmates  and  intimate  friends,  and 
the  latter  was  chosen  to  deliver  the  right  hand  of  fel- 
lowship. An  unusual  truth  and  tenderness  was 
infused  into  the  fraternal  address  made  to  the  candi- 
date by  his  friend,  in  a  service  which  always  owes  a 
portion  of  its  effect  to  natural  feeling. 

'  If,'  he  says,  '  in  offering  you  the  fellowship  of  the 
churches,  I  should  suffer  myself  to  dwell  with  too  much 
fondness  on  expressions  of  personal  good-will,  you,  I  know, 
would  forgive  me,  but  I  should  hardly  have  performed  the 
duty  assigned  me  by  this  honorable  council. 

'  We,  and  all  our  churches,  are  by  this  act  united,  not  in 
the  bonds  of  an  ecclesiastical  league,  not  under  the  dominion 
of  infallible  superiors,  not  for  the  purpose  of  strengthening 
the  secular  influence  of  our  religious  societies,  nor  in  the 
spirit  of  any  selfish  and  mercenary  connection,  but  in  those 
equal  and  spiritual  ties  which  God  has  hitherto  blessed  and 
hallowed  to  the  peace  of  the  New  England  churches.  For 
we  are  all  united  in  the  same  fsiith  and  profession,  in  the 
same  duties  and  hopes,  in  the  same  ordinances  and  liberties, 
and,  as  we  trust,  in  the  same  spirit  also,  under  one  Lord, 
even  Jesus,  and  "  one  God  and  Father  of  all,  who  is  above 
all,  and  through  all,  and  in  all." ' 


ORDINATION    OF    A    CLASSMATE.  227 

This  address  was  pronounced  just  as  divisions 
were  beginning  in  tlie  churches  of  the  Boston  Asso- 
ciation, and  one  of  the  publications  of  the  day,  speak- 
ing of  it,  said  :  '  Notwithstanding  the  sanctity  of 
the  occasion,  the  following  simile  was  received  by  the 
audience  with  a  murmur  of  approbation.' 

'  Is  there  not,  amid  all  the  varieties  of  opinion  and  faith, 
enough  left  us  in  common  to  preserve  a  unity  of  spirit? 
What  though  the  globes  that  compose  our  planetary  system 
are  at  some  times  nearer  than  at  others,  both  to  one  another 
and  the  sun  ;  now  crossing  each  other's  path,  now  eclipsing 
each  other's  light,  and  even  sometimes  appearing  to  our 
short-sighted  vision  to  have  wandered  irrecoverably,  and  to 
have  gone  off  into  boundless  space  ;  yet  do  we  not  know 
that  they  are  still  reached  by  the  genial  beams  of  the  central 
light,  and  continue  in  their  widest  aberrations  to  gravitate 
to  the  same  point  in  the  system  ?  And  may  we  not  believe 
that  the  Great  Head  of  the  Church  has  always  dispensed 
through  the  numerous  societies  of  Christendom  a  portion  of 
the  healing  influences  of  his  I'eligion?  has  held  his  churches 
invisibly  together  when  they  have  appeared  to  be  rushing 
farthest  asunder  ?  and  through  all  the  order  and  confusion, 
conjunction  and  apposition,  progress  and  decline  of  churches, 
has  kept  alive  in  every  communion  a  supreme  regard  to  his 
authority,  a  portion  of  the  spirit  of  their  Master,  as  a  com- 
mon principle  of  relation  to  him  and  to  one  another  ? ' 

He  closes  with  these  words  :  — 

'  If  I  might  be  permitted  now  to  express  a  wish  for  you 
and  for  myself,  it  would  be  this :  that,  as  our  gracious 
Master,  when  he  was  on  earth,  sent  forth  his  seventy  evan- 
gelists by  two  and  two,  to  preach  the  Gospel  in  Judea,  he 
would  also  send  us  forth  together  by  his  authority,  would 
permit  us  to  travel  in  company  through  the  journey  of  a 
useful  ministry,  and  would  enable  us  to  return  to  his  pre- 


228  THE    MONTHLY    ANTHOLOGY. 

sence  together  at  last,  rejoicing  to  find  that  our  names  have 
been  written,  with  the  names  of  our  people,  in  the  book 
of  life.' 

It  was  in  this  year  that  my  brother  began  to  contrib- 
ute to  the  pages  of  the  Anthology,  a  monthly  review, 
which  had  succeeded  the  Literary  Miscellany,  a  short- 
lived periodical,  commenced  the  previous  year  in 
Cambridge.  The  Anthology  was  supported  by  a 
society  of  gentlemen  in  Boston  and  Cambridge,  con- 
sisting of  the  youngest  of  the  clergy  and  many 
distinguished  laymen.  It  was  planned  in  a  wholly 
private  manner,  and  the  business  was  afterwards  con- 
ducted at  weekly  evening  meetings,  held  in  the 
beginning  in  succession,  at  the  houses  of  the  mem- 
bers. This  meeting  took  the  name  of  the  Anthology 
Club.  A  light  supper  was  allowed,  but  it  was  never 
a  convivial  club.  Perhaps  it  was  one  of  the  most 
agreeable  literary  societies  that  ever  existed  in  Boston, 
and  among  its  members  were  some  of  the  most  hon- 
ored names  in  every  profession.  It  will  show  the 
almost  village  character  of  Boston  society  forty  years 
ago,  and  the  early  hours  of  fashionable  parties,  to 
mention  that  ladies  would  not  invite  company  on 
Anthology  evening,  because  the  meeting  of  the  club 
robbed  them  of  the  presence  of  the  most  agreeable 
gentlemen. 

The  introductory  address  of  the  sixth  volume  of 
the  Anthology,  written  by  Mr.  Buckminster,  thus 
explains  the  purpose  of  the  publication,  and  apolo- 
gizes for  its  deficiencies  :  — 

'  The  faults  of  our  work,  of  which  no  one  can  be  more 
sensible  than  its  editors,  result  from  causes  which  we  can 


THE  MONTHLY  ANTHOLOGY.  229 

only  hope  to  counteract,  but  not  entirely  to  remove.  The 
Anthology  has  hitherto  been  supported  by  the  unpaid  and 
unregulated  contributions  of  a  few  literary  men,  who  are 
well  pleased  when  the  public  profits  by  their  reading,  or 
shares  in  their  amusement.  They  have  yet  had  no  extraor- 
dinary stimulus  to  write  but  the  friendly  curiosity  and  occa- 
sional encomiums  of  men  like  themselves.  They  are  not 
enlisted  in  the  support  of  any  denomination,  nor  are  they 
inspired  with  the  fanaticism  of  literary  crusaders,  associated 
to  plant  their  standard  on  territory  recovered  from  heathens 
or  heretics.  They  are  satisfied  if  they  can  in  any  way  con- 
tribute to  the  mild  influence  of  our  common  Christianity, 
and  to  the  elegant  tranquillity  of  a  literary  life.  They  are 
gentle  knights,  who  wish  to  guard  the  seats  of  taste  and 
morals  at  home  from  the  incursions  of  the  "  Paynim  hosts," 
happy  if  they  should  now  and  then  rescue  a  fair  captive 
from  the  giants  of  romance,  or  dissolve  the  spell  by  which 
many  a  youthful  genius  is  held  by  the  enchantment  of  a 
corrupt  literature.  If,  with  these  objects,  they  can  retain  the 
pleasures  of  lettered  society,  — 

"  Mundaeqiie  parvo  sub  lare  pauperum 
Coense,  sine  aulaeis  et  ostro, 
Sollicitain  explicare  frontem,"  — 

they  will  try  to  be  as  insensible  to  the  neglect  and  contumely 
of  the  great  vulgar  and  the  small,  as  they  are  to  the  pelting 
of  the  pitiless  storm  without,  when  taste  and  good  humor  sit 
around  the  fire  within.' 

When  it  is  recollected  that  all  of  the  contributors 
to  the  Anthology  were  men  engaged  in  laborious  and 
exacting  professions  ;  that  their  contributions  were 
the  fruits  of  chance  half-hours,  or  of  moments  lighted 
by  the  midnight  lamp,  after  days  of  fatiguing  labor  in 
their  offices  ;  '  that  they  did  not  pass  under  the  rig- 
orous review  of  any  single  editor '  j  that  each  was 
20 


230  THE    ANTHOLOGY    CLUB. 

his  own  censor,  proof-reader,  and  critic  ;  —  there  is 
certainly  a  wonderful  degree  of  unity  of  purpose  and 
harmony  of  sentiment,  and  a  general  respectability, 
in  its  pages,  highly  creditable  to  the  dawning  litera- 
ture of  the  day.  Any  one  reading  it  now  will  be 
startled  at  the  independent  tone  of  its  criticism. 

Among  its  regular  contributors  were  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Emerson,  and  Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  J.  Gardiner,  who  wrote 
upon  classical  themes  and  supplied  many  literary  an- 
ecdotes. Professor  Willard  of  Cambridge,  whose  ar- 
ticles were  learned  criticisms  or  reviews,  Mr.  William 
Wells,  Mr.  Frank  Channing,  Mr.  William  Tudor, 
were  all  occasional  contributors.  A.  M.  Walter,  Esq., 
who  seems  to  have  been  the  darling  of  a  numerous 
circle  of  friends,  was  one  of  its  most  responsible  sup- 
porters. Then  there  were  many  very  pleasant  per- 
sons who  belonged  to  the  club,  who  did  not  contribute 
to  the  pages  of  its  periodical,  —  drones  in  the  hive, 
that  were  too  agreeable  to  be  turned  out.  Mr.  John 
Lowell  enriched  its  pages  with  his  graphic  '  Letters 
from  Europe,'  in  a  series  through  two  or  three  years. 
The  papers  under  the  signature  of  R.  were  valuable 
and  rich,  —  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  Mr. 
Rockwell  of  Boston.  There  were  many  fugitive 
papers  sent  from  regions  far  from  Boston.  Daniel 
Webster,  from  the  rocky  wilds  of  New  Hampshire, 
enriched  its  pages  with  his  winged  thoughts  ;  and 
some  eloquent  papers  upon  Greek  literature  came 
from  Maine,  which  proved,  as  was  remarked  at  the 
time,  that  their  author  dwelt  nearer  to  Athens  than 
the  editors  themselves.*     Samuel  Dexter  wrote  occa- 

*  Charles  Davies,  Esq.,  of  Portland. 


THE    ANTHOLOGY    CLTJB.  231 

sionally  for  its  pages,  and  a  tardy  Remarker,  full  of 
calm  and  transparent  thought,  proved  that  Dr.  Kirk- 
land  could  sometimes,  amid  serious  cares,  finish  a 
lighter  production. 

Perhaps,  of  some  of  these  gentlemen,  it  may  be 
Said  that  they  have  left  no  productions  of  the  pen  by 
which  they  are  remembered  ;  their  contributions  to 
the  Anthology  lie  forgotten  in  its  pages.  But  is  it 
rational  or  fair  to  complain  that  wine  has  not  been 
stored  in  the  cask,  and  preserved  for  future  years,  from 
the  vines  whose  clusters  have  been  gathered  from  day 
to  day,  as  soon  as  they  were  ripe,  to  refresh  the 
thirsty  lip,  to  soothe  the  sick,  and  to  serve  for  the 
dessert  at  the  table  of  every  passing  day  ?  There 
was  at  that  time  no  class  of  literary  men,  and  had 
there  been,  there  was  little  encouragement  given  to 
literature.  Low  as  was  the  price  of  the  Anthology, 
it  had  far  more  readers  than  subscribers  ;  and  though 
the  contributions  were  all  gratuitous,  it  scarcely  paid 
the  expense  of  printing. 

Mr.  Buckminster's  anonymous  contributions  to  the 
Anthology  were  very  numerous.  It  is  impossible  at 
this  time  to  know  how  numerous.  Rough  sketches 
are  found  among  his  papers  of  many  articles  which 
were  anonymous  at  the  time,  and  the  author  unsus- 
pected. The  first  thing  that  was  known  to  be  his, 
was  a  letter,  written  while  he  was  in  England,  con- 
taining an  account  of  his  visit  to  Johnson's  birth- 
place at  Lichfield.  As  Johnson  is  as  interesting  at 
this  day  as  at  the  time  when  it  was  written,  and  as  it 
is  a  fair  specimen  of  his  epistolary  style,  the  letter  is 
inserted  here. 


233  DESCRIPTION    OF    THE 

'  Birmingham,  June  19,  1806. 

'My  dear  FaiEND,  —  Yesterday  I  travelled  the  whole 
distance  from  Buxton  to  Birmingham  (sixty-one  miles)  in 
a  post-chaise,  with  a  young  American,  born  near  Ports- 
mouth ;  and  we  shall  probably  keep  company  till  we  reach 
the  metropolis,  the  urbs  sacra,  the  city  of  the  gods.  This 
charming  country  is  worth  a  voyage  across  the  Atlantic 
to  behold.  Ceres  and  Flora  must  have  laid  their  heads 
together,  I  think,  to  lay  it  out,  and  I  have  found  that 
Thomson's  Summer  is  a  perpetual  commentaiy  upon  the 
road  I  have  been  travelling. 

'  Yesterday,  about  5  o'clock,  P.  M.,  I  passed  through 
Lichfield.  I  purposely  delayed  dining  till  this  late  hour, 
that  I  might  spend  a  longer  time  on  this  classic  ground. 
As  soon  as  I  alighted  at  the  hotel,  I  inquired  for  the  house 
where  Dr.  Johnson  was  born.  I  was  immediately  shown  to 
one  about  two  hundred  rods  off,  and  I  am  sure  I  should  not 
have  walked  with  a  quicker  step,  or  with  more  expectation, 
to  see  the  amphitheatre  of  Vespasian. 

'  The  house  where  Johnson  was  born  stands  in  the  centre 
of  the  town  of  Lichfield,  at  the  corner  of  a  square,  within 
a  few  paces  of  the  market  and  the  Church  of  St.  Mary's, 
I  think.  It  is  now  an  old  three-story  building,  rather  showy 
without,  and  rather  shabby  within.  The  first  apartment  on 
the  lower  floor,  which  was  the  bookstore  of  Johnson's  father, 
is  now  a  tinker's  shop,  filled  with  copper  tea-kettles,  tin 
pans,  candlesticks,  &c.  ;  while  a  small  room  adjoining  is 
occupied  by  a  maker  of  electrical  machines.  In  the  chamber 
over  this  shop,  once  divided  into  two,  that  mighty  spirit, 
destined  to  illuminate  the  generation  which  received  him, 
and  to  exalt  our  estimate  of  human  capacity,  was  ushered 
into  this  world.  This  chamber  is  now,  as  I  imagine,  the 
tinker's  drawing-room !  There  remains  a  small  fire-place 
in  one  corner,  and  the  walls  are  hung  round  with  paltry 
pictures, — 

"The  seasons  framed  with  listing  find  a  place, 
And  brave  Prince  William  shows  his  lampblack  face." 


BIRTHPLACE    OF    DR.    JOHNSON.  233 

The  floors  are  much  worn,  dirty,  and  uneven,  and  every- 
thing within  the  house  bears  the  appearance  of  poverty  and 
decay.  The  tinman,  named  Evans,  was  not  at  home  ;  but 
his  wife,  a  chatty  old  woman,  told  us,  in  answer  to  our 
queries,  that  the  present  rent  which  they  paid  was  eighteen 
guineas,  and  that  the  taxes  were  as  much  more.  This,  to 
be  sure,  is  quite  as  much  as  such  a  house  would  be  worth  in 
Boston,  and  nothing  but  its  central  situation  can  render  it  so 
high.  The  old  lady  then  called  her  little  grand-daughter,  to 
conduct  us  to  what  is  called  the  Parchment  house,  to  which 
Johnson's  father  afterwards  removed,  and  to  show  us  the 
willow-tree,  of  which  there  is  a  tradition  that  it  was  planted 
by  Johnson  or  his  father,  but  nobody  knows  which.  How- 
ever this  may  be,  it  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  trees  in 
all  England.  It  is  certainly  twice  as  large  as  any  willow  I 
ever  saw  in  America,  and  it  is  allowed  to  surpass  every 
other  in  this  country.  The  tinker's  wife  told  us  that  her 
house  was  frequently  visited  by  travellers,  and  I  dare  to  say 
that  the  gratuities  which  she  receives  for  her  civilities  in 
showing  it  amount  at  least  to  the  rent  of  the  house.  Here 
is  a  subject  for  meditation.  A  tinman  is  now  able  to  secure 
a  comfortable   habitation   by   showing   the   chamber  where 

Johnson  was  born tiiat  JJlmson,  who  has  wandered 

many  a  night  through  the  streets  of  London,  because  he 
was  unable  to  pay  for  a  lodging ! 

'  As  we  were  returning  to  our  inn,  we  espied  a  curious 
figure  of  an  old  man,  with  laced  round  hat,  scarlet  coat, 
with  tarnished  trimmings  of  the  last  age,  and  a  bell  under 
his  arm.  Upon  accosting  him,  we  found  that  he  had  been 
town-crier  for  many  years,  and  a  kind  of  Caleb  Quotem  ; 
that  he  always  shaved  Dr.  Johnson  when  he  came  to  visit 
Lichfield ;  that  his  name  was  Jenney,  seventy-four  years 
old,  with  strength  and  spirits  unimpaired. 

'  The   cathedral   at  Lichfield   is  worthy  the   attention   of 
every  traveller.     Who  shall  say  that  the  daily  view  of  this 
ancient,  dark,  and  reverend    pile,  once    the   residence  of 
20* 


234 


LETTER    ON    DR.    JOHNSON. 


monks,  may  not  have  contributed  to  impress  on  the  mind 
of  young  Johnson  a  superstitious  veneration  for  the  splendor 
of  a  church  establishment,  and  have  even  given  him  that 
melancholy  bias,  which  he  discovered  toward  many  of  the 
ceremonies  and  doctrines  of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Indeed, 
I  know  of  nothing  so  calculated  to  inspire  a  secret  suspicion 
of  the  presence  of  the  departed,  as  to  walk  through  the 
long,  still,  and  echoing  aisles  of  a  Gothic  cathedral,  lined 
on  each  side  with  the  tombs,  and  ornamented  with  the 
figures,  of  men  who  died  centuries  ago  ;  for  while  you  are 
trembling  at  the  sound  of  your  own  steps  in  these  lofty 
and  silent  cloisters,  and  seem  to  shrink  into  littleness  under 
the  venerable  grandeur  of  the  roofs,  you  can  hardly  bring 
yourself  to  believe  that  such  a  vast  and  solemn  structure 
is  uninhabited  ;  and  after  having  heard  the  great  gate  close 
upon  your  coming  out,  you  cannot  avoid  the  impression, 
that  you  are  leaving  these  awful  retreats  to  some  invisible 
and  ghostly  tenants. 

'  Dr.  Johnson,  and  David  Garrick,  and  Gilbert  Walmsley, 
have  monuments  in  this  cathedral  very  near  to  one  another. 
You  remember  the  Latin  epitaph  which  Johnson  wrote  for 
his  father's  tombstone,  who  was  buried  here ;  I  know  you 
will  hardly  forgive  the  dibn  and  chapter,  when  1  tell  you, 
that,  in  paving  the  church,  they  have  lately  removed  it, 
as  well  as  another,  which  Dr.  J.  caused  to  be  placed  over 
the  grave  of  a  young  woman,  who  was  violently  in  love 
with  his  father.     The  inscription  which   Dr.  J.  wrote  was 

nothing   more  than  this,  —  "Here  lies  a   stranger, 

ob.  &c."  This  anecdote  I  had  from  the  verger,  a  tattling 
old  man,  who  showed  tis  the  cathedral.  He  professed  to 
have  been  "  very  intimate "  (these  were  his  words)  with 
Dr.  J.     Flis  name  is  Furneaux.' 

Besides  the  description  of  the  destruction  of  Gol- 
daii,  sent  from  Europe,  there  is  a  letter  from  Paris, 
containing  '  A  sketch  of  the  present  state  of  litera- 
ture and  theology  in  Paris.' 


LITERARY    CONTROVERSY.  235 

There  is  in  the  pages  of  the  Anthology  a  curious 
controversy  between  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  S.  J.  Gardiner 
and  Biickminster,  upon  the  merits  of  Gray  as  a  poet. 
This  controversy  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  dis- 
cussions between  the  romantic  and  classical  schools  in 
literature.  Dr.  Gardiner  maintains  with  dry  reasoning 
that  Pope's  is  the  only  true  model  for  real  poetry. 
And  Buckminster  supports,  in  the  following  passage, 
the  opinion  that  the  most  thrilling  touches  of  sub- 
limity and  beauty  are  consistent  with  great  indistinct- 
ness of  images  and  conceptions. 

'It  is  hardly  to  be  believed,  before  making  the  experi- 
ment, that  we  should  be  so  much  affected  as  we  are  by 
passages   which  convey   no   definite    picture   to    the    mind. 

We    must    acknowledge    that    there    is   a    liigher 

species  of  poetry  than  the  mere  language  of  reason. 
Spenser,  Milton,  and  even  Dryden,  knew  this,  and  they 
studied  successfully  the  Italian  poets ;  but  after  the  time 
of  Dryden,  our  English  poetry  began  to  be  formed  too 
exclusively  upon  that  of  the  French.  The  authority  of 
Pope  has  been  eminently  useful,  but  the  world  is  not  yet 
persuaded  that  to  be  a  poet  it  is  indispensable  to  write  like 
Pope 

'  For  my  own  part,  I  take  as  much  delight  in  contemplating 
the  rich  hues  that  succeed  one  another  without  order  in  a 
deep  cloud  in  the  west,  which  has  no  prescribed  shape,  as 
in  viewing  the  seven  colors  of  the  rainbow,  disposed  in  a 
form  exactly  semicircular.  After  having  read  any  poem 
once,  we  recur  to  it  afterwards,  not  as  a  whole,  but  for  the 
beauty  of  particular  passages 

'  The  distinguishing  excellence  of  Gray's  poetry  is,  I 
think,  to  be  found  in  the  astonishing  force  and  beauty  of  his 
epithets.  In  other  poets,  if  you  are  endeavoring  to  recol- 
lect a  passage,  and  find  that  a  single  word  still  eludes  you, 


236  LITERARY    CONTROVERSY. 

it  is  not  impossible  to  supply  it  occasionally  with  something 
equivalent  or  superior.  But  let  any  one  attempt  this  with 
Gray's  poetry,  and  he  will  find  that  he  does  not  even 
approach  the  beauty  of  the  original.  Like  the  single 
window  in  Aladdin's  palace,  which  the  Grand  Vizier 
undertook  to  finish  with  diamonds  equal  to  the  rest,  but 
found,  after  a  long  trial,  that  he  was  not  rich  enough  to 
furnish  the  jewels,  nor  ingenious  enough  to  dispose  them  ; 
so  there  are  lines  in  Gray,  which  critics  and  poets  might 
labor  for  ever  to  supply,  and  without  success.  This 
wonderful  richness  of  expression  has  perhaps  injured  his 
fame.  For  sometimes  a  single  word,  by  giving  rise  in  the 
mind  of  the  reader  to  a  succession  of  images,  so  pre- 
occupies it  as  to  obscure  the  lustre  of  the  succeeding 
epithets.  The  mind  is  fatigued  and  retarded  by  the  crowd 
of  beauties,  soliciting  the  attention  at  the  same  moment  to 
different  graces  of  thought  and  expression.' 

Dr.  Gardiner,  in  his  reply,  again  maintains,  — 

'  That  he  knows  of  no  sublime  passage  in  Homer,  Virgil, 
or  Milton,  but  what  is  perfectly  intelligible  ;  and  scarcely 
a  description  which  would  not  make  a  good  picture.  Indeed, 
I  lay  it  down  as  a  general  maxim,  that  whatever  imagery  a 
good  painter  cannot  execute  on  the  canvas  must  necessarily 
be  incorrect.  If  there  be  any  exception  to  this  rule,  it  can 
only  be  where  images  are  presented  to  the  mind  which  are 
not  subjects  of  the  eye,  as  the  rattling  of  the  quiver  on 
the  shoulders  of  Apollo  on  his  march  to  avenge  his  insulted 
priest. 

'  In  his  "  Ode  for  Music,"  (an  odd  title,  by  the  way,)  Gray 
has  these  lines  :  — 

"  And  thus  they  speak  in  soft  accord 
The  liquid  language  of  the  skies." 

'  Now  I  should  be  happy  if  you  would  inform  me  in 
what  consists  "  the   astonishing   force   and   beauty   of  this 


LITERARY    CONTROVERSY.  237 

epithet,"  If  Gray  had  written  "  the  language  of  the  liquid 
skies,"  we  might  have  supposed  he  meant  thunder  in  rainy- 
weather.  But  I  presume  the  beauty  of  this  epithet  arises 
from  that  inimitable  obscurity  which  is  the  great  source  of 

Gray's  sublimity 

'  The  ode  on  Summer,  published  in  the  last  Sylva,  is 
superior  to  Gray's  on  the  Spring,  and,  without  borrowing  a 
single  thought  or  expression  from  him,  exhibits  all  his  pecu- 
liarities :  his  quaintness  of  epithets,  his  affected  alliterations, 
and  the  general  glitter  and  tinsel  of  his  style.' 

Dr.  Gardiner  closes  thus  :  — '  Sincerely  wishing 
that  you  will  in  future  employ  your  acknowledged 
talents  as  a  writer  more  usefully  than  in  the  defence 
of  absurdity.' 

Buckminster  answers  with  a  further  vindication  of 
Gray,  and  closes  thus  :  —  'I  beg  leave  to  reciprocate 
your  benevolent  wish,  with  a  little  variation  ;  that, 
instead  of  employing  your  "  acknowledged  talents  " 
as  a  poet  in  burlesque  imitations  of  Gray,  you  would 
have  the  goodness  to  give  us  an  ode  equal  to  the 
"  Bard."  ' 

It  would  perhaps  be  hardly  worth  while  to  call  the 
history  of  this  gentle  controversy  from  the  oblivion 
of  the  pages  of  the  Anthology,  were  it  not  to  intro- 
duce an  anecdote  recollected  and  imparted  by  the 
Hon.  James  Savage,  a  member  of  the  club.  *  Con- 
troversy,' he  says,  '  sprang  up  in  the  club  on  the 
literary  nature  of  Gray's  odes,  and  the  war  began 
with  a  burlesque  ode  to  Winter,  by  our  president, 
Rev.  J.  S.  J.  Gardiner,  who  followed  it  up  with  one 
on  Summer,  also  in  the  Anthology.  In  the  same  No., 
Buckminster  gave  a  forcible  defence  of  the  imagery 
and  epithets  of  the  poet,  which,  the  next  month,  was 


238  RETROSPECTIVE    REVIEW 

replied  to  by  the  assailant,  and,  in  the  following  No., 
was  strengthened  by  the  other  side  ;  and  this  also 
was  connter worked  by  another  parody  of  the  lyric  in- 
spiration, in  which  Gray's  great  odes  were  caricatured. 
A  fourth  attempt  at  the  ludicrous,  by  our  president, 
contained  something  unguardedly  personal  from  the 
satirist  to  his  antagonist,  which  produced  strong 
though  silent  emotions  of  sympathy  in  many  of  the 
party.  In  an  instant,  the  writer  threw  the  incon- 
siderate effusion  into  the  fire.  This,'  says  Mr.  Sav- 
age, '  as  a  striking  instance  of  the  powerful  influence 
of  the  gentleness  of  Mr.  Buckminster,  and  of  the 
profound  regard  felt  for  him  by  a  critic  of  opposite 
sentiments  in  a  protracted  controversy,  has  dwelt 
forty  years  in  my  memory  ;  yet  the  kindly  natured 
polemics  had,  I  dare  say,  in  half  as  many  weeks, 
utterly  forgotten  it.  From  that  moment,  no  allusion 
was  made  in  the  club  to  Gray's  merits.' 

Another  object,  the  design  of  which  originated  in 
the  club,  and  was  most  earnestly  urged  by  my  brother, 
was  to  rescue  from  oblivion,  and  review  in  the  An- 
thology, the  American  books  which  had  been  printed 
since  the  settlement  of  the  country.  In  the  intro- 
duction to  this  department  of  the  Anthology,  called 
'  Retrospective  Notices  of  American  Literature,'  writ- 
ten by  himself,  he  says  :  — 

'  We  propose  to  commence  a  review  of  books  in  Ameri- 
can literature,  which  have  either  been  forgotten,  or  have 
not  hitherto  received  the  attention  which  they  deserve. 
Interested  as  we  are  in  every  thing  that  relates  to  the  honor 
of  our  country,  we  are  not  ashamed  to  express  our  convic- 
tion   that   one    reason    of  the    low   estimate   in  which   our 


OF    ABIERICAN    BOOKS.  239 

literature  is  held  among  ourselves,  as  well  as  in  Europe,  is, 
that  there  has  been  no  regular  survey  of  this  field  of  letters. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  utterly  barren,  because  it  is  so  wide  and 
desolate,  and  because  there  has  never  been  a  map  of  the 
region.  But  as  in  the  highest  parts  of  a  mountainous  coun- 
try, which  appear  at  a  distance  to  be  covered  with  eternal 
snows,  you  will  discover  in  crevices  and  little  spots  some 
humble  and  modest  plants,  which  sufficiently  reward  the 
toilsome  ascent  of  an  enthusiastic  botanist ;  so,  in  the 
extensive  if  not  copious  records  of  American  learning, 
we  hope  to  detect  a  few  rare  and  undescribed  specimens, 
which  may,  by  this  means,  awaken  at  least  the  regard  of 
some  future  historian  of  literature.  It  is  unfortunately  true, 
that,  while  every  country  in  modern  Europe  has  produced 
copious  annals  of  its  literature,  or  maintained  regular 
journals  of  its  new  works,  this  country  has,  till  within  a 
few  years,  had  nothing  of  the  kind.' 

After  saying  that  the  design  would  not  embrace 
works  in  theology,  he  remarks  :  — 

'  It  would  be  an  endless  task  to  review  even  the  works 
of  tolerable  merit  in  this  class,  which  have  issued  from  the 
presses  of  New  England  alone.  Here  we  are  proud  to 
mention  the  works  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  a  man  whose 
powers  of  mind  need  not  have  bowed  before  the  genius 
of  Locke  or  of  Hartley,  and  whose  theological  research, 
in  a  remote  part  of  an  unlettered  country,  would  have  been 
considered  honorable  to  any  divine,  surrounded  with  learned 
libraries,  and  aided  by  the  constant  intercourse  of  men  of 
erudition.  But  we  decline  to  enter  this  field  of  literary 
history,  because  it  is  perhaps  not  only  the  best  known,  but 
would  also  be  less  generally  interesting.  Neither  shall  we 
trespass  upon  the  ground  of  that  respectable  and  industrious 
society,  which  has  already  published  several  volumes  of 
historical  recollections 


240  RETROSPECTIVE    REVIEW. 

'  Nothing  seems  at  present  to  be  in  the  way  of  our 
gradually  taking  rank  in  the  scale  of  literaiy  nations  but 
our  avarice  ;  and  the  extraordinary  opportunities  we  have 
had  of  making  money,  as  it  is  called,  are  at  least  some 
apology  for  our  immoderate  love  of  gain 

'  We  can  never  in  this  country  possess  many  of  the 
luxuries  of  the  fine  arts  which  older  countries  enjoy  ;  but 
we  may  learn  to  love  the  more  refined  and  loftier  elegances 
of  literature  and  taste.  These  can  never  be  entirely  debased 
by  sensuality  ;  they  never  can  be  completely  pressed  into  the 
cause  of  corruption.  God  grant  that  our  expectations  may 
not  be  disappointed,  for  we  think  we  can  discern  the  dawn 
of  better  days.     "  Novus  scBcidorum  nascitur  ordoy  ' 

He  proceeded  to  redeem  the  engagement  by  the 
review  of  '  Logan's  Translation  of  Cato  Major,  a 
quarto  volume  printed  by  Dr.  Franklin  in  Phila- 
delphia, in  1744.'  It  was  the  first  and  the  best  trans- 
lation of  an  ancient  classic  which  had  appeared  in 
this  country.  The  translator  was  Mr.  Logan  of 
Philadelphia,  and  the  work  of  translating  was  begun 
in  his  sixtieth  year. 

The  review  of  Cato  Major  was  carried  through 
three  numbers  of  the  Anthology.  The  articles  that 
were  furnished  by  Mr.  Buckminster,  after  this,  were 
generally  of  a  theological  character,  ending  with  a 
review  of  Griesbach's  New  Testament  in  the  tenth 
and  last  volume  of  the  Anthology. 

An  historical  and  more  permanent  interest  attaches 
to  the  Anthology  Club  from  the  fact  that  the  first 
idea  was  started,  and  the  first  design  planned,  of  the 
Boston  Athenaeum,  in  one  of  these  evening  meetings. 
To  William  S.  Shaw,  who,  although  not  a  frequent 
writer,  was  an  active  member  of  the  club,  belongs 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    BOSTON    ATHENiEUM.  241 

the  honor  of  first  proposing  the  Athengeum.  Upon 
another  page  will  be  found  some  curions  details  of 
the  responsibility  assumed  by  him,  and  the  infor- 
mality with  which  the  business  was  at  first  con- 
ducted.* 

In  connection  with  the  Anthology,  and  to  show 
Mr.  Buckminster's  warm  interest  in  this  publication, 
part  of  a  letter  to  Mr.  Shaw,  written  from  England, 
is  introduced  in  this  place. 

'  I  cannot  say  that  I  am  entirely  pleased  with  some  of  the 
last  numbers  of  the  Anthology.  1  fear  that,  in  composing 
the  Sylva,  too  much  attention  is  paid  to  showing  specimens 
of  fine  writing  and  sentimental  beauties,  rather  than  to 
making  it  curious  for  literary  memoranda.  I  feel,  too,  on 
this  side  of  the  water,  those  defects  which  are  almost 
inherent  in  the  work,  and  which  will  keep  it,  I  fear,  from 
being  interesting  in  Europe.  These  are,  first,  that  we  are 
amazingly  destitute  of  any  thing  like  scientific  information 
and  curious  research.  Secondly,  the  books  we  are  called 
to  review  are  very  trifling,  and  have  nothing  to  attract 
readers  in  Europe.  Besides,  1  think  we  waste  too  much 
of  our  time  upon  fugitive  pamphlets,  and  give  them  a 
page,  when  many  of  them  should  be  despatched  in  a  line. 
Lastly,  we  have  too  many  heavy  dissertations,  theme-like 
communications,  which  no  one  reads,  even  among  us,  but 
the  writer ;  and  even  if  our  criticisms  and  disquisitions  were 
to  possess  as  much  taste  as  we  sometimes  fancy  they  do, 
yet  they  can  hardly  boast  of  originality,  —  the  only  thing 
which  will  attract  readers  here.  They  will  not  look,  here, 
into  an  American  publication,  which  gives  them  nothing  but 
the  drippings  of  their  own.  These  circumstances  do  not  in 
the  least   diminish   my  zeal  for  supporting  our  Anthology 

*  See  the  correspondence  of  Shaw  and  Buckminster,  Chapter 
XVIII. 

21 


242  THE    ANTHOLOGY. 

with  all  our  might,  but  they  induce  me  to  despair  of  seeing 
it  awaken  the  attention  and  circulate  among  the  readers  of 
Europe.  However,  nil  desperandum ;  —  I  was  going  to  add 
the  rest  of  the  quotation,  but  alas !  our  dear  Walter  is  dead, 

—  the  life  and  animating  soul  of  the  club  ! 

'  Give  my  love  to  all  the  Anthologists,  even  the  new  ones. 
I  am  delighted  with  Kirkland's  address  of  the  editors,  in  the 
new  volume.  Be  careful,  I  beseech  you,  about  admitting 
new  members.  I  am  very  much  afraid,  that,  during  my 
absence,  you  will  metamorphose  it  from  a  club  of  friends 
into  a  club  of  editors.  But  not  a  word  of  this.  En  j^ossant, 
I  am  sorry  to  see  the  articles  of  literary  intelligence  so 
scanty.  Has  the  former  collector  relaxed  his  industry,  or 
given  up  the  task  ?  or,  rather,  has  the  death  of  our  dear 
Walter  paralyzed,  for  the  moment,  his  activity?  Once 
more  ;  I  am  mortified,  whenever  I  think  that  no  review  of 
Marshall's  Life  of  Washington  has  yet  appeared  in  the 
Anthology.  Would  it  not  be  well  for  the  editors  to  make 
a  polite  request  to  Dr.  Holmes,  who  deserves  the  honorable 
name  of  the  American  annalist,  that  he  would  undertake 
to  give  us  a  careful  and  adequate  review  of  this  great 
national  work  ?  I  know  of  no  man  better  qualified.  It  is 
time  to  wipe  away  several  disgraceful  omissions  of  this  sort. 
Webster's  Dictionary  has  never  been  reviewed.  Lathrop's 
Sermons  !  —  pray,  what  are  our  theological  auxiliaries 
about  ?     I  see  no  traces  of  their  hands.' 

To  the  above  inadequate  account  of  the  Anthology 
is  only  added,  that  many  of  the  Sylvas  of  that  pub- 
lication, which  were  always  anonymous,  were  fur- 
nished by  my  brother,  particularly  after  his  return 
from  Europe,  consisting  of  literary  information,  col- 
lected there,  which  was  too  trifling  or  insufficient  to 
weave  into  a  graver  article. 

It  may  seem  astonishing  to  some  minds,  that,  occu- 
pied as  he  was  with  the  parochial  duties  of  a  large 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  243 

society,  he  could  find  time  and  inclination  to  devote 
to  a  publication  like  the  Anthology.  But,  as  has 
been  observed  in  another  page  of  this  memoir,  he 
was  a  student,  in  the  truest  meaning  of  the  word. 
He  loved  study  for  itself,  and  devoted  himself  cheer- 
fully to  the  self-denial  which  a  life  of  study  demands ; 
and,  in  his  favorite  pursuits,  he  met  with  little  or  no 
sympathy  from  others  to  animate  his  solitary  labors 
beneath  the  midnight  lamp.  It  was,  therefore,  the 
greatest  delight,  and  the  most  agreeable  relaxation,  to 
him,  to  meet  with  friends  and  associates  in  those 
lighter  pursuits  where  the  Muses  and  the  Graces 
mingled,  in  the  pages  of  the  Anthology. 

To  aiford  some  idea  of  the  rapid  intellectual  survey 
by  which  he  compassed  his  studies,  the  journal  of 
his  reading  for  rather  more  than  a  year  is  given.  It 
comprises  the  reading  of  the  year  preceding  his  ordi- 
nation.* 

'  I  am  induced,  by  the  example  of  Gibbon  and  others,  to 
commence  a  diary,  which  shall  contain  a  brief  record  of  the 
progress  of  my  studies,  and  of  the  distribution  of  my  time. 
I  begin  upon  a  day  which  finds  me  in  the  midst  of  the 
perusal  of  more  than  four  books.  Let  the  confession  of  an 
error  upon  this  point  be  the  first  step  towards  amendment. 
My  morning's  occupation  is  the  perusal  of  Benson  on  the 
Epistles.  The  ti-anslation  of  Dalzel's  Collectanea  Grseca 
occupies  my  spare  moments. 

'  December  ISth,  1603.  Began  the  first  volume  of  Bar- 
row's Works,  folio.  Read  his  Life,  by  Abraham  Hill. 
Barren   of  interest,  and   written  with    great   affectation  of 

*  This  journal  of  studies  belongs  to  the  years  1804-5.  It  was 
the  first  intention  of  the  writer  to  introduce  it  in  an  appendix.  But 
it  having  been  thought  best  to  give  it  a  place  in  the  work,  it  was  too 
late  to  insert  it  in  the  preceding  chapter. 


244  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

humility.  Read  the  first  sermon  on  the  Pleasantness  of 
Religion.  He  is  very  fond  of  using  epithets.  There  is 
scarcely  a  substantive  without  two  or  more  adjectives. 

'  December  22d.  Finished  Benson's  Essay  upon  the 
Abolition  of  the  Ceremonial  Law,  pp.  106.  His  obscu- 
rity, or  rather  his  perplexity,  upon  some  points,  arises 
from  the  paucity  of  his  materials.  He  divides  the  Jewish 
law  into  moral,  political,  and  ceremonial ;  the  first  always 
binding  on  all  Christians,  as  part  of  the  law  of  nature  and 
of  Christianity,  where  it  is  incorporated  and  improved. 
The  second  is  obligatory  upon  the  Jews,  during  the  exist- 
ence of  their  civil  polity,  and  its  force  is  not  impaired  by 
their  embracing  Christianity.  This  makes  no  change  in  the 
civil  relations  of  men.  This  law  also  binds  the  proselytes 
when  inhabitants  of  the  Jewish  territory.  The  ceremonial 
law  is  not  binding  upon  Jews,  Gentiles,  or  Christians. 
Paul's  doctrine  upon  this  point  may  be  slated  in  the  follow- 
ing method  :  — 

'  1.  The  Gentile  Christians  he  openly  declared  unfettered 
by  it,  and  such  was  his  care  upon  this  point,  that  most  of 
his  epistles  are  filled  with  censures  on  the  conduct  of  the 
Jews  and  Judaizing  Christians  who  would  induce  the  con- 
verted Gentiles  to  submit  to  its  injunctions.  2.  The  devout 
Gentiles  who  had  been  converted  to  Christianity,  of  whom 
Cornelius  and  his  family  were  the  first  fruits,  were  exhorted, 
by  the  council  of  apostles  at  Jerusalem,  to  observe  the  in- 
junctions mentioned  in  the  decree.  Acts  xv.  To  this  they 
were  subject  by  the  Jewish  code.  3.  But  neither  these  nor 
the  Jews  were  really  bound  by  the  ceremonial  law  after  the 
death  of  Christ,  although  Paul  and  Barnabas,  to  whom  alone 
this  was  revealed,  were  cautious  of  publishing  its  abolition, 
in  order  to  avoid  shocking  the  prejudices  of  bigoted  Jews. 

'  Subject  for  a  sermon,  to  illustrate  the  character  of  Paul 
from  this  subject. 

'  Read  Gibbon's  Miscellaneous  Works,  2  vols.,  pp.  300. 
Wharton's  Life  of  Pope.    It  contains  little  more  information 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  245 

than  Johnson's,  and  is  written  with  great  slovenliness  of 
manner. 

'  Decemler  23rf.  Reviewed  Benson's  Essay.  Continued 
Gibbon.  In  reading,  his  method  was  to  follow  the  suit  of 
his  ideas,  rather  than  that  of  his  books.  This  demanded  an 
inexhaustible  library.  The  principal  source  of  his  erudition 
seems  to  have  been  the  Memoirs  of  the  Academy  of  Belles 
Lettres,  a  book  not  to  be  procured  here.  One  reason  of 
our  having  so  few  learned  men  is,  the  want  of  books, 

'  December  21  th.  Read  Benson's  Two  Essays  upon 
the  Government  of  the  Primitive  Church  and  their  Public 
Worship.  The  following  are  some  of  his  conclusions :  — 
That  the  apostles,  at  their  first  planting  of  any  church,  did 
not  ordain  any  officers,  but  left  it  to  the  direction  of  some 
of  the  first  converts,  called  elders.  That  this  title,  so  often 
mentioned  in  the  New  Testament,  signified  no  regular 
officer.  Their  regular  officers  were  usually  ordained  at 
the  second  visit  of  the  apostles.  The  expression  "  ordain- 
ing elders "  is  interpreted  by  Benson  to  mean,  ordaining 
elders  to  be  bishops  and  deacons.  These,  after  they  were 
ordained,  were  sometimes  spoken  of  under  the  names  of 
elders  and  priests,  till  at  length  the  name  of  "  bishop  "  was 
appropriated  to  the  presiding  bishop,  to  distinguish  him 
from  the  other  bishops,  who  were,  in  the  second  century, 
presbyters  or  elders.  Ignatius  is  the  strongest  authority  on 
the  episcopal  side  ;  but  he  does  not  intimate  that  his  bishop 
was  a  diocesan  bishop,  but  only  a  parochial  bishop. 

'■January  1st,  1604.  Began  Belsham's  Elements  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind.  It  is  ridiculously  exact 
and  copious  on  the  subject  of  syllogisms.  In  every  other 
part  of  logic,  his  compendium  is  useful  and  his  definitions 
accurate.  Read,  same  day,  Barrow's  Sermons  on  the  Duty 
of  Prayer, —  sixth  and  seventh  sermons,  pp.  48-63. 

'  January  2rf.  Read  forty-four  pages  in  Benson's  second 
volume.  Mr.  Tracy's  Speech  in  the  Senate,  on  the  passage 
of  the  Amendment  of  the  Constitution  as  respects  the  choice 
21* 


246  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

of  President.  He  shows,  that,  in  the  Constitution,  there  are 
several  marks  of  concession  and  compromise  between  the 
large  and  small  States.  That  the  Senate  is  a  body  chosen 
and  constituted  on  the  federative  principle  of  State  equality, 
which  was  the  principle  of  the  old  Confederation.  That  the 
House  of  Representatives  is  elected  on  the  popular  principle 
of  a  majority  of  members,  and,  of  course,  the  larger  States, 
who  send  the  greater  number  of  representatives,  will  always 
rule  here.  He  shows,  that,  in  the  old  mode  of  choosing 
President,  by  voting  for  two  persons,  it  was  intended  that 
there  should  be  a  chance  of  no  electoral  choice,  which 
would  throw  the  ultimate  decision  into  the  hands  of  the 
House  of  Representatives,  voting  by  States.  In  such  an 
event,  the  small  States  would  recover  that  influence  which 
they  would  not  have  enjoyed  in  the  popular  manner,  because 
their  proportion  of  electors  would  be  very  small.  But  the 
present  amendment  goes  to  secure  a  choice  by  the  electors 
in  the  first  instance.  Of  course,  the  great  States  will  always 
have  it  in  their  power  to  give  a  President  to  the  Union,  and 
the  federative  principle  is  destroyed..  •  The  Constitution 
requires  two  thirds  of  the  House  to  concur  in  an  amend- 
ment. Tracy  and  Plumer,  New  Hampshire,  contended 
that  this  means  two  thirds  of  the  whole  House,  and  not  of 
the  members  present. 

'  January  Gth.  Finished  Belsham.  A  most  masterly 
compendium  and  recapitulation  of  the  argument  of  neces- 
sity, and  a  fair  statement  of  the  libertarian  objections.  The 
definition  of  philosophical  liberty,  given  by  Gregory,  is 
worthy  of  remark.  Read,  in  the  Monthly,  review  of 
Dodson's  Isaiah,  and  Sturgis's  reply. 

'  January  8th.  Read  3d  No.  of  Edinburgh  Review. 
Gentz  Etat  de  VEurope,  a  most  masterly  work.  Shep- 
herd's Poggia  Bracciolina.  The  reviewer  here  intimates 
an  opinion  that  the  praises  which  have  been  bestowed  upon 
Roscoe's  work  are  above  its  merits.  When  I  formerly 
gave   such  an   opinion,   it  was   reprobated   without   mercy. 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  247 

Hayley's  Life  of  Covvper.  It  is  curious  to  observe  the 
different  decisions  of  these  Scotch  reviewers  and  the 
Monthly,  in  their  character  of  Hayley's  style.  The  Scotch 
say,  "  The  little  Mr.  Hayley  writes  in  these  volumes  is  by 
no  means  well  written."  The  Monthly  says,  "  A  work 
which,  on  the  whole,  is  very  well  written."  In  my  humble 
opinion,  Hayley's  style  is  redundant,  sometimes  inflated, 
often  slovenly.  The  decisions  of  these  reviewers  are 
delivered  with  the  most  dogmatical  air,  and  with  all  the 
contemptuousness  of  youthful  criticism. 

'•  Jamiary  9th.  Read,  before  breakfast.  Price's  Sermon 
on  the  Security  of  a  Virtuous  Course,  and  Barrow's  on  the 
same  text,  Prov.  x.  9.  Their  arrangement  is  dissimilar. 
How  much  more  pleasant  is  the  style  of  Price,  but  at  the 
distance  of  more  than  a  century !  In  the  evening,  read 
Priestley's  Sermons  on  the  Duty  of  not  living  to  Our- 
selves and  on  the  Danger  of  Bad  Habits.  They  are  both 
admirable.  Read  Pope's  Pastorals  in  Wharton's  edition. 
Wharton  seems  to  write  notes  merely  for  the  sake  of  find- 
ing fault  with  his  author.  He  prefers  the  Pastorals  of 
Theocritus  to  Virgil's,  and  says  there  is  only  one  false 
rhyme  in  Pope's  first  Pastoral  ! 

'  January  Wth.  Read  Michaelis  on  the  Epistle  of  Peter, 
to  compare  him  with  Benson.  They  agree  in  opinion  as  to 
the  two  most  important  difficulties  in  this  epistle,  namely, 
to  whom  it  was  addressed  and  where  it  was  written.  Read, 
also,  Lardner's  Letter  on  the  Logos  and  his  First  Postscript. 
This  -letter  was  written  in  1730,  when  the  Arian  controversy 
was  at  its  height,  and  is  a  remarkable  instance  of  private 
investigation  and  unbiased  belief.  It  lay  unpublished  in 
the  author's  cabinet  nineteen  years. 

'■January  llth.  Read  Lardner's  Second  Postscript, 
pp.  205.  Read  a  review  of  a  Dissertation,  published  by 
Teylor's  "  Theological  Society."  It  proposes,  as  the  bond 
of  union  of  all  Christians,  "  the  belief  of  the  Divine  author- 
ity of  the  doctrines  of  Jesus."  This  is  the  only  common 
principle  of  union. 


248  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

'■January  \Ath.  Read  Benson.  Flis  Dissertation  on  1st 
of  Peter,  iii.  17,  is  more  ingenious  and  probable  than  the 
other  opinions  which  he  enumerates,  but  even  this  must 
yield  to  the  interpretation  of  Wakefield. 

'  Read  again  the  review  of  Stewart's  account  of  Robert- 
son in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  There  is  an  affectation  of 
refinement  in  this  critique  which  sometimes  disgusts  the 
reader. 

'  January  20th.     Benson  and  Michaelis.' 

He  goes  on  until  February  6th,  reading  Benson  and 
Michaelis.     The  remarks  are  omitted. 

'  February  Ith.  Farmer  on  Demoniacs.  8</t,  finished 
Farmer.  To  me,  he  is  learned,  ingenious,  temperate.  It 
must  have  been  very  difficult  for  the  antagonists  of  the 
overbearing  Warburton  to  keep  their  temper. 

'  February  9th.  Read  Symonds  on  the  Expediency 
of  Revising  the  English  Version  of  the  Four  Gospels, 
N.  B.  —  Wakefield  has  corrected,  in  his  translation,  every 
error  mentioned  by  Symonds.' 

From  this  time  till  the  first  of  April,  he  was  occu- 
pied with  Priestley's  History  of  the  Corruptions  of 
Christianity,  the  Monthly  Review,  and  Horsely's 
Charges  against  Priestley.  He  appears  to  have  studied 
the  controversy  very  thoroughly,  and  to  have  given 
the  Trinitarian  hypothesis  a  complete  investigation. 
His  remarks  upon  it  fill  ten  very  closely  written  pages 
in  his  commonplace  book. 

'  April  1st  and  2d.  Read  Fuller's  Calvinism  and  Socin- 
ianism  Compared.  It  is  an  ingenious  piece  of  argument, 
and  plausible  in  its  principle.  His  arguments,  however, 
are  in  some  measure  drawn  from  inconsiderate  expressions 
of  Socinian  writers.    Vid.  Belsham's  Answer  to  Wilberforce. 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  249 

But  it  may  be  asked  if  the  influence  of  Calvinistic  doctrines 
should  be  allowed  to  be  as  great  as  it  has  been  represented. 
Is  not  this  influence  rather  an  operation  upon  the  passions 
than  on  the  understanding  ?  Is  not  the  tendency  of  Calvin- 
ism that  of  substituting  religious  affections  for  virtuous 
actions  ?  Does  not  the  whole  scope  of  Fuller's  reasoning 
go  to  prove  that  there  can  be  no  good  men  except 
Calvinists  ? 

'  Read  Farmer's  Inquiry  into  the  Temptation  of  Christ. 
I  read  a  sermon  of  Massillon's  in  French  every  night,  before 
going  to  bed.  One  or  two  chapters  in  the  Greek  Testament 
in  the  morning, 

'  The  only  difficulty  in  Farmer's  scheme  of  the  Tempta- 
tion is  to  account  for  Christ's  being  tempted  with  what  he 
knew  to  be  a  mere  vision. 

'  April  \Qth.  Eead  Urquhart's  Commentaries  on  Clas- 
sical Learning,  Light,  graceful,  entertaining.  A  pleasant 
lady's  book ! 

'  April  26th.  Third  volume  of  Priestley's  History  of  the 
Christian  Church.  It  is  evenings'  work.  Cursory.  Un- 
worthy of  Priestley. 

'  April  'Zlth,  28th,  29th.  Bishop  of  London's  Lectures 
on  the  Gospel  of  St.  Matthew.  It  is  impossible  to  commend 
this  work  too  highly.  It  is  plain,  popular,  convincing;  pure 
and  even  elegant  in  language  ;  eloquent  in  its  appeals  to  the 
understanding  and  to  the  heart.  It  should  belong  to  the 
family  of  every  Christian. 

'  May  1st.  Read  Farmer  on  the  Worship  of  Human 
Spirits. 

'  May  1th.  Michaelis  on  the  Introduction  to  the  Epistle 
to  the  Hebrews.  Read  carefully  the  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews 
in  Wakefield's  translation,  comparing  it  with  our  own  and 
with  the  original. 

'  In  the  course  of  the  last  week,  read  Bishop  Hoadley  on 
the  Sacrament. 

'May  16th,  11th,  18th,  19th.  Read  Hopton  Hayne's 
Scripture  Account,  pp.  336,  8vo. 


250  •  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

'  May  22d,  23d,  2-ith.  Heron's  Junius.  American  edition. 
2  vols.  Svo. 

'  May  26th,  21th.  Taylor's  Scripture  Doctrine  of  Original 
Sin,  with  Supplement,  pp.  5(;0. 

'  May  2^th.  Read  Bishop  Law's  Life  and  Character  of 
Christ,  pp.  142. 

'  At  my  father's  request,  read,  for  the  second  time,  Ed- 
wards on  Original  Sin. 

'  July  Sd.  Began  Jamieson's  Vindication,  pp.  567.  [Here 
follow  some  pages  of  remarks.]  Jamieson's  Proofs  from 
Scripture  contain  little  new. 

''July  ]Oth.     Finished  Paley's  Natural  Philosophy. 

'■July  \8th.  Head  Fellows's  Picture  of  Christian  Phi- 
losophy. 

'  August  1  St.  Read  Marsh's  Dissertation  for  the  second 
time. 

'  August  lOth.  A  Series  of  Plays  on  the  Passions,  by 
Miss  Baillie. 

'■August  loth  to  20th.  Dugald  Stewart's  Elements  of  the 
Philosophy  of  the  Human  Mind.  This  is  the  work  of  a  truly 
original  thinker.  The  chapters  on  Association,  Memory,  and 
Imagination,  may  be  repeatedly  perused  with  new  pleasure 
and  increasing  profit.  The  most  bigoted  dogmatist  cannot 
be  offended.  Except  a  new  theory  of  conception,  I  find  no 
innovation  upon  Reid's  theory. 

'■August  2'th.  Began  to  read  Archbishop  Wake's  Apos- 
tolic Fathers.  The  only  pieces  in  this  collection  whose 
authority  is  undoubted  are  Clement's  First  Epistle  to  the 
Corinthians  and  Polycarp's  Second  to  Philippians.  [Here 
follow  several  pages  of  remarks  upon  these  epistles,  with 
Greek  quotations.] 

'  October.  Read  Priestley's  Controversy  with  Rev.  Dr. 
Linn,  [of  Philadelphia.]  Has  not  Linn  the  decided  supe- 
riority in  the  argument .'' 

'■November.  Wakefield's  Inquiry,  &;c.,  pp.  35.  [Here 
follow  remarks  which  are  omitted.]  Read  Bell  on  the 
Sacrament,  pp.  204.     Supplement,  pp.  47. 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  2ol 

'From  Dibdin's  Introduction  to  a  Knowledge  of  Editions 
of  the  Classics,  made  out  a  list  of  classical  authors  to  be 
procured.' 

Here  intervenes  an  illness  of  some  weeks,  during 
which  he  writes,  '  I  have  indtilged  myself  in  various 
and  desultory  reading,  during  the  horce  suhsecivm  of 
convalescence.' 

'  Read  Benson  on  Unity  of  Sense ;  compared  him  with 
Michaelis  on  Quotations  from  the  Old  Testament.  [Here 
follow  remarks  which  are  omitted.] 

'  January,  1805.  Read  Toulmin's  Life  of  Faustus  Socin- 
ius,  pp.  471,  8vo.  h  is  one  of  the  most  hasty  and  meagre 
compilations  I  ever  read.  The  facts  in  the  Life  of  Socinius 
are  few,  and  the  volume  is  swelled  with  long  extracts  from 
his  works.  He  was  an  Italian,  born  in  Sienna,  1.539.  It 
is  probable  that  the  sentiments  of  his  uncle  Lcelius  had 
more  influence  on  the  mind  of  Faustus,  in  forming  his 
opinions,  than  Toulmin  is  willing  to  admit.  It  appears 
that  Faustus  paid  no  attention  to  theological  inquiries  till 
he  had  attained  the  age  of  thirty  years,  so  that,  for  his 
opinions,  we  must  probably  look  to  his  uncle.  Neither  can 
we  discover  that  his  mind  passed  through  any  of  those 
successive  revolutions  of  opinion,  which  have  marked,  and 
must  mark,  the  intellectual  history  of  eminent  men.  He 
does  not  appear  to  have  digested  his  peculiar  creed  with 
any  great  method  or  accuracy,  and  his  sentiments  are 
frequently  inconsistent,  and  sometimes  obscure. 

'  Disney's  Life  of  Jortin  is  still  more  meagre  and  unin- 
teresting. 

'  Teignmouth's  Life  of  Sir  William  Jones.  Lord  Teign- 
mouth  insinuates  that  Sir  William  believed  the  Divinity  of 
Jesus  Christ  according  to  the  articles  of  the  Church  of 
England,  of  which  nothing  he  has  quoted  atfords  conclusive 
evidence  ;  and  also  the  common  doctrine  of  atonement,  of 


252  JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES. 

which  there  is  not  one  word  in  all  Sir  William  ever  wrote. 
But  he  grounds  his  assertion  on  this  clause  in  one  of  his 
prayers,  —  "  the  mercy  of  God  through  Jesus  Christ." 

'  Read  Eotherham  on  Faith.  I  am  exceedingly  disap- 
pointed in  this  essay.  It  was  written  to  counteract  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  Methodists.  It  is  a  good  antidote  against 
Antinomianism,  but  removes  few  of  the  difficulties  respect- 
ing the  meaning  of  the  word  faith.  I  have  learned,  by 
repeated  disappointments,  not  to  form  too  high  expectations 
of  a  work  which  I  have  heard  often  commended  and  seen 
often  quoted. 

'  Read  Sallust's  Catiline  and  Jugurtha  in  Hunter's  edition. 
I  have  lately  read  Xenophon  again.  Also  Gilbert  Wake- 
field's Life. 

'  Read  Locke's  Vindication  of  the  Reasonableness  of 
Christianity ;  and  his  Conduct  of  the  Understanding,  and 
Letters  to  Molineux.  Mr.  Locke  often  seems  anxious  to 
express  to. some  friend,  in  person,  the  result  of  his  inquiries. 
O  that  his  conferences  with  Molineux,  when  he  came  to 
England,  could  have  been  recorded  !  Should  we  not  have 
learned  more  of  the  doctrine  of  association  and  of  nice 
points  in  theology  ? 

'  June.  Finished  Lowth  on  Sacred  Poetry,  comparing  it 
with  Michaelis. 

'  September.  President  Nott  preached  in  Brattle  Street. 
The  fullest  audience  ever  known  there  except  on  ordination 
day.     Epigram  made  on  him  by  Josiah  Quincy : — 

"  Delight  and  instruction  have  people,  I  wot, 
Who  in  seeing,  not  see,  and  in  hearing,  hear  not.'" 

'  Burnet,  De  Fide  et  Officiis.  Pleasant  and  catholic.  It 
might  be  of  use  if  translated  into  English. 

'  Read  Le  Clerc's  Ars  Critica.  What  a  wonderful  man 
was  Le  Clerc  !  Learned,  to  an  extent  almost  unequalled 
by  any  who  have  succeeded  him  ;  liberal,  perhaps  to  a  fault ; 


JOURNAL    OF    STUDIES.  253 

perspicuous  and  pleasant  in  his  critical  works ;  the  worthy 
successor  of  Grotius;  the  contemporary  of  Bayle  ;  and  the 
model  of  the  Jortins  and  Lowths  and  VVarburtons,  who  have 
since  admired  and  imitated  him.  What  might  not  have  been 
expected  from  him,  had  he  enjoyed  the  light  thrown  upon 
criticism  and  theology  since  his  death !  Read,  also,  Le 
Clerc's  five  Letters  on  Inspiration,  pp.  237. 

'  Read  G.  Sharp's  book  on  the  Greek  Article.  His  first 
rule,  which  is  the  only  important  one,  is,  that  when  two 
nouns  of  personal  description  follow  one  another,  the  first 
of  which  has  the  article,  and  the  second  not,  and  they  are 
connected  with  a  copulative,  they  both  refer  to  the  same 
subject.  The  most  important  passage,  which  would  be 
affected  by  this  rule,  is  in  Titus  ii.  13,  which  he  would 
render,  '  appearance  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  great  God  and 
Saviour.'  But  the  exceptions  are  so  numerous  that  the  rule 
is  almost  useless,  and  thus  instances  contradicting  it  are 
found  without  difficulty.  Gregory  Blunt's  Six  Letters  are 
hardly  a  satisfactoiy  reply,  because  he  argues  rather  from 
the  nature  of  the  thing  than  from  a  critical  inquiry  into  the 
use  of  the  Greek  article.  Wistanley's  vindication  of  our 
common  version  in  the  texts  in  question,  is,  to  my  mind, 
decisive,  though  he  is  exceedingly  biased  in  some  of  his 
remarks  by  his  Arian  system. 

"■  October  \st.  Morgan's  Collection  of  Tracts,  occasioned 
by  the  Trinharian  Controversy.  London,  1726.  Read 
Maury's  Eloge  de  St.  Augustin  et  de  Feneion.  What  can 
exceed  the  onction  of  the  latter  saint-like  man  and  writer  ^ 
The  life  of  Augustin  is  a  true  extravaganza.' 

Daring  the  whole  time  of  this  journal,  he  was 
sttidying  Hebrew  and  translating  Greek,  beside 
writing  his  earliest  sermons. 

Actively  engaged  as  my  brother  had  been  in  the 
year  since  his  settlement,  his  health  had  by  no  means 
improved.  The  attacks  of  his  malady  had  so  far 
22 


254  PROPOSAL    OF    A    VOYAGE. 

increased,  that,  as  appears  from  a  record  which  he 
kept  among  his  private  papers,  they  had  been  nearly 
double  the  number  of  the  preceding  year.  In  the 
spring  of  18U6,  his  intimate  friends,  among  whom 
was  an  eminent  physician,  the  elder  Dr.  Warren,  ad- 
vised relaxation,  a  total  suspension  of  study,  and  a 
voyage  to  Europe.  In  his  letter  to  his  parish,  re- 
questing leave  of  absence,  he  says,  'It  would  be 
superfluous  for  me  to  dwell  upon  the  painful  senti- 
ments with  which  I  suggest  the  idea  of  this  tempo- 
rary separation,  for  our  mutual  attachment  to  each 
other  is  too  great  to  need  any  assurance  of  this  kind.' 

The  proposal,  as  did  every  thing  which  had  a  near 
or  remote  tendency  to  improve  his  health  and  alle- 
viate his  cares,  met  with  the  prompt  and  generous 
acquiescence  of  the  Brattle  Street  society. 

His  father  consented  with  reluctance  to  this  sepa- 
ration. In  his  letter,  in  answer  to  the  one  informing 
him  of  the  generous  acquiescence  of  the  parish,  he 
says,  'I  shall  deeply  regret  that  you  should  be  so 
long  absent,  —  perhaps,  to  me,  for  ever  absent, — but 
my  principle  has  always  been  to  sacrifice  my  wishes 
to  the  interests  of  my  children.'  His  father  was  at 
this  time  sutfering  from  deep  depression,  augmented 
by  many  causes  besides  the  recent  death  of  his  second 
wife.  At  the  times  of  his  depression,  he  was  always 
discouraged  respecting  the  state  of  religion  in  his 
parish,  the  little  good  that  he  had  been  able  to  effect, 
and  a  general  fear  of  unfaithfulness.  At  this  time, 
he  wrote  to  his  son  in  this  desponding  strain :  — 

'  My  daughters  are  amiable  ;  they  strive  to  make  my 
desolate  home  cheerful  to  me  ;  they  try  to  surround  their 


CORRESPONDENCE.  255 

broken-hearted  father  with  many  comforts,  that  he  may 
forget  his  inestimable  loss  ;  but  I  have  no  evidence  that  they 
are  the  subjects  of  grace,  or  that  they  belong  to  the  new 
covenant.' 

Ill  conformity  with  Dr.  Buckminster's  theory  of 
religion,  he  could  not  regard  his  children  with  entire 
approbation,  because  Calvinism  makes  no  appeal  to 
the  sentiment  of  duty;  —  nature  and  grace  are  op- 
posed. That  which  he  could  approve  was  not  any 
amiable  disposition,  strengthened  by  effort,  but  some- 
thing superinduced ;  he  must  have  regarded  them, 
therefore,  rather  with  tenderness  and  pity  than  with 
respectful  approbation. 

It  cannot  be  denied,  also,  that  one  cause  of  the 
father's  depression  was  his  disappointment  in  his 
son's  views  of  religion,  and  the  general  prevalence  of 
liberal  interpretations  of  Christianity.  This,  in  him, 
was  not  the  result  of  bigotry.  To  him,  a  sincere 
Calvinist,  his  own  interpretation  of  the  meaning  of 
Christ  and  the  apostles  was  vital  to  the  peace  of  his 
heart.  It  was  the  life's  breath  of  his  religion,  the 
aliment  of  his  devotion,  the  only  sure  support  of  his 
hopes  of  the  future  bliss  of  heaven.  He  could  not 
but  acknowledge  that  his  son's  life  was  exemplary  ; 
that  his  preaching  had  not  only  been  admired,  but 
attended  with  eminent  success;  that  his  example  had 
been  alluring  to  the  young  to  induce  them  to  lead  a 
religious  life  ;  and  yet  he  felt  that  the  foundation  of 
all  this  was  false  and  insecure. 

When  the  voyage  was  finally  determined  upon,  he 
wrote  to  his  son  in  a  more  encouraging  and  cheerful 
strain. 


256 


LETTER    OF    DR.    BXTCKMINSTER. 


'  May  6,  1806. 

'  My  dear  Son,  —  I  have  hoped  that  I  should  be  able  to 
see  you  again  before  you  sailed  ;  and  when  Mr.  Lowell 
came  in  last  evening,  tlie  hope  brightened  again  ;  but  I  have 
so  much  of  a  cold,  in  consequence  of  exposures,  by  which 
my  habitual  cough  is  much  increased,  that  I  am  persuaded 
it  is  imprudent  to  think  of  going  again  to  Boston,  even 
though  so  many  disappointments  are  the  consequence  of  my 
remaining  at  home. 

'Your  voyage  is  fixed  and  determined  upon,  and,  as  far 
as  I  can  judge,  upon  those  principles  and  with  those  views 
by  which  we  must  be  governed  in  the  present  state.  You 
may,  therefore,  I  conceive,  consider  it  a  matter  of  duty,  and 
have  nothing  else  to  do  but  to  undertake  it  with  firmness 
and  religious  confidence,  and  pursue  it  with  a  constant  reli- 
ance upon  Divine  Providence  for  support,  protection,  and 
restraint.  And  we,  who  are  left  bereaved,  have  nothing  to 
do  but  to  acquiesce,  to  follow  you  willi  our  best  wishes  and 
prayers,  and  to  look  and  long  for  the  time  of  your  return. 
You  will  be  in  new  situations,  and  new  scenes  will  be  con- 
tinually opening  to  your  view  ;  I  hope  you  will  endeavor  to 
be  always  self-possessed,  and  under  the  commanding  influ- 
ence of  reason  and  religion,  and  let  neither  your  fears  nor 
your  joys  transport  you.  You  have  probably  often  heard 
me  mention  a  resolution  of  your  own  dear  mother's,  early 
formed,  and  steadily  adhered  to,  '  never  to  let  her  passions 
so  far  get  the  ascendancy  as  to  disqualify  her  for  acting, 
or  hurry  her  to  resolutions  or  conduct  which  her  reason  and 
her  conscience  would  not  afterwards  approve.' 

'  If  you  should  be  tolerably  well  on  shipboard,  and  have 
pleasant  weather,  I  hope  you  will  find  yourself  disposed  to 
serve,  and  your  shipmates  desirous  and  willing  to  regard 
you,  as  the  regular  chaplain  to  the  ship ;  and  while  the 
master  is  taking  his  observation  of  the  material  heavens, 
the  minister  on  board  will  be  daily  endeavoring  to  help  him, 
and  all  others,  to  take  observation  of  the   heavens  that  are 


LETTER    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER.  257 

higher  than  they  ;  and  that  your  track  through  the  ocean, 
instead  of  being  marked  with  profanity,  will  be  distinguished 
from  others  by  prayer  and  praises  to  God.  If  you  should 
meet  with  storms  and  tempests,  you  will  remember  who 
holdeth  the  winds  in  his  fists,  and  who  is  able  to  say, 
"  Peace,  be  still."  Let  not  the  admonition,  that  was  once 
addressed  to  a  sleeping  prophet,  be  ever  addressed  to  you. 

'  When  you  get  to  the  land  of  science,  of  wealth,  and 
of  wonderful  improvement  in  the  arts,  and  see  great  men, 
and  witness  great  events,  I  hope  you  will  not  forget  that 
the  most  wonderful  character  that  was  ever  on  the  earth  is 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  the  knowledge  of  him  is 
true  science,  and  love  and  obedience  to  him  true  wisdom, 
and  that  if  any  man  would  become  truly  wise,  he  must 
become  a  fool  in  the  estimation  of  the   men  of  the  world, 

'  To  say  that  I  am  not  anxious  about  you,  my  son,  would 
be  to  belie  the  father  and  his  feelings ;  but  I  am  able,  in  all 
humility,  to  commit  you  to  that  God  to  whom  I  early  gave 
you,  who  has  always  watched  over  you,  and  who,  I  trust, 
will  still  keep  you.  To  him  may  you  yet  be  made  a  faithful 
son  and  servant.  The  last  prayer  of  a  father  is,  may  the 
voyage  establish  your  health,  improve  your  mind,  increase 
your  piety,  perfect  you  in  the  love  of  God,  and  in  due  time 
restore  you  to  your  friends  and  duties,  in  the  fulness  of  the 
blessing  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 

'  Your  affectionate  father.' 

'  May  6,  1806. 

'  My  DEAR  Father,  —  The  time  approaches  when  I  must 
bid  adieu  to  much  that  I  fervently  love.  It  is  one  of  the 
severest  trials  that  I  ever  experienced,  and  that  was  not  a 
small  part  of  it  which  I  endured  at  Portsmouth.  I  am 
sometimes  tempted  to  hope  that  you  will  not  come  up 
before  I  go.' 

A  few  days  after  :  — - 

'  Tuesday  morning.     By  God's  help  I  have  gone  through 
22* 


258  DEPARTURE  FOR  EUROPE. 

the  most  painful  circumstances  attending  my  departure,  that 
is,  the  exercises  on  the  Sabbath.  I  preached  all  day,  and 
was  very  much  disappointed  that  Mr.  Lowell  did  not  return. 

'  I  am  waiting  with  anxiety,  expecting  every  moment  a 
summons  to  go  on  board  ;  but  if  the  wind  gets  round  to  the 
eastward,  I  shall  have  another  day  of  pain  in  taking  leave. 
Indeed,  my  dear  sir,  all  the  trials  of  my  life  have  borne  no 
kind  of  proportion  to  the  anguish  of  this  departure,  for  I 
have  been  overwhelmed  with  kindness  and  affection.  A 
whole  life  of  devotion  can  hardly  repay  it. 

'  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  hear  how  your  cold  is. 
Your  letter  did  not  alarm  me  much,  though,  upon  reflection, 
I  have  been  afraid  that  your  cough  is  more  serious.  The 
Sally  will  sail  in  ten  days  for  Liverpool,  when  you  must  not 
fail  to  write  me  particularly.  My  love  to  my  dear  sisters. 
God  in  his  mercy  for  ever  bless  them!  They  shall  have  a 
line  by  the  return  of  the  pilot-boat. 

'  Your  dear  son.' 

Daring  my  brother's  absence,  his  salary  was  con- 
tinned,  and  he  bore  the  expense  of  supplying  the 
pulpit.  Under  this  liberal  arrangement,  a  committee 
was  appointed  to  engage  the  preachers,  and  his  father 
went  five  times  to  Boston  to  preach  for  his  son.  It 
was  so  arranged  that  he  usually  administered  the 
communion.  At  such  times,  he  visited  those  of  the 
parish  who  were  ill,  or  who  desired  ministerial  visits. 
To  show  that  his  letters  were  not  always  filled  with 
serious  admonitions,  one  is  here  introduced,  written 
when  he  visited  Boston  the  first  time  after  his  son's 
absence  :  — 

'  Boston,  .Tune  2,  1806. 

'  My  DEAR  Son,  —  Among  the  flood  of  letters  which  you 
will  receive  by  the  hand  of  Mr.  Thacher,  and  the  happiness 
you  will  experience  in  unexpectedly  finding  him  so  soon 


DR.    BUCKMINSTER    TO    HIS    SON.  259 

after  you,  it  will  be  gratifying  to  you  to  have  a  line  from 
your  father,  who,  more  than  any  man  living,  naturally  cares 
for  your  state,  and  whose  comfort  and  earthly  happiness 
depend  more  naturally  upon  you  than  upon  any  other.  I 
intended  to  have  written  to  you  by  the  Sally,  but  the  vessel 
sailed  before  my  return  from  Northampton,  where  I  spent 
the  last  Sabbath  with  my  old  college  friend  and  companion, 
Mr.  Williams,  whom  I  found  exceedingly  full  of  ministerial 
duty,  there  being  a  very  great  attention  to  religion  among 
his  young  people.  I  returned  to  Boston  the  morning  of 
election-day,  and  entered  into  the  hubbub  and  excitement  of 
election  and  convention.  Mr.  Shepherd,  the  preacher  on 
election-day,  is  a  man  of  talents  and  of  piety  ;  but  it  was  so 
late  before  the  jangling  and  wrangling  court*  could  get 
prepared  to  go  to  the  meeting-house,  that  many  of  the 
audience  thought  his  sermon  too  long.  Dr.  Lyman,  of  Hat- 
field, preached  the  convention  sermon  in  your  desk,  and 
delivered  a  concio  ad  clerum  with  his  usual  independence, 
animation  and  zeal ;  and,  though  it  contained  some  senti- 
ments a  little  different  from  those  which  have  lately  been 
heard  there,  I  think  they  are  not  different  from  what  may 

yet  be  there  heard  again 

'  Sabbath  evening.  I  have  been  all  this  day  in  your 
pulpit,  attempting  to  preach  to  your  people.  Having  left 
my  gown  at  home.  Deacon  Thacher  furnished  me  with  his 
father's  ;  but  alas !  it  did  not  make  me  the  popular  and  be- 
loved pi'eacher  that  he  was.  Some  old  ladies  looked  very 
hard  at  the  gown,  but  heard  not  the  voice  "  so  wonderfully 
sweet."  I  introduced  into  the  church  those  persons  who 
were  propounded  before  you  went,  and  propounded  two 
others.  The  two  Governors,  Strong  and  Sullivan,  were  at 
the  communion-table.  I  could  not  but  think  how  they 
felt   towards  each    other.     I    dined  at  Deacon  Storer's,  in 


*  This  was  after  a  bitterly  contested  election,  between  Gov.  Strong 
and  Gov.  Sullivan. 


260  DR.    BUCKMINSTER    TO    HIS    SON. 

company  with   ,  and   preached  this  afternoon   upon 

the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  Providence  in  all  its  dispen- 
sations. 

'  I  hope,  my  dear  son,  you  will  take  due  precaution,  in 
your  journeying,  that  you  do  not  expose  yourself  to  acci- 
dents. You  will  not  travel,  I  trust,  without  a  companion, 
nor  without  a  servant.  I  hope  you  will  read  and  study  very 
little,  and  pray  much.  Many  new  temptations  will  assail 
you.  Let  your  heart  be  established  by  grace  and  the  fear 
and  love  of  God.  Trust  not  in  any  creature,  however  ex- 
alted, but  trust  in  the  living  God.  My  dearest  son,  to  God 
I  commend  you,  and  with  him  I  leave  you. 

'  J.    BUCKMINSTER.' 


CHAPTER    XIY. 

JOURNAL    OF  J.   S.  BUCKMINSTER   IN    LONDON. JOURNAL   AND 

LETTERS    UPON    THE    CONTINENT. 

1806-7.  Mr.  Buckminster  embarked  in  the  packet- 
Aged  23.  sjjj^  JqJ-,,-^  Adams,  about  the  lOth  of  May,  for 
Liverpool,  where  he  arrived  June  6th,  and  from  thence 
travelled  by  post-horses  to  London,  where  he  was  re- 
ceived at  the  house  of  Samuel  Williams,  Esq.  the 
brother  of  his  excellent  friends,  the  Lymans.  There 
he  again  met  his  early  friend,  Mr.  Francis  Williams, 
and  his  residence  was  made  delightful  by  every  atten- 
tion that  refined  hospitality  and  sincere  attachment 
could  bestow.  Early  in  August  he  was  joined  by  his 
intimate  friend.  Rev.  Samuel  C.  Thacher,  and  to- 
gether they  embarked  for  the  continent,  and  landed 
at  Harlingen,  on  the  Zuyder  Zee.  They  passed 
rapidly  through  Holland  and  a  part  of  Belgium,  as- 
cended the  Rhine,  and,  partly  on  foot,  made  a  tour 
of  Switzerland.  My  brother  kept  a  very  full  journal 
of  this  journey  upon  the  continent,  of  which  a  small 
part  has  been  published  in  a  letter  to  a  friend,  de- 
scribing the  fall  of  part  of  the  Rossburg  mountain  in 
Switzerland.  They  were  often  put  to  inconvenience 
in  this  tour  by  meeting  with  Bonaparte's  new-made 
kings,  also  on  their  travels,  who  usually  monopolized 
all  the  post-horses,  and  made  humble  travellers  wait. 


2G2  JOURNAL    IN    LONDON. 

Readers  have  been  so  completely  satiated  with  travels 
ill  Holland  and  Switzerland,  that  no  extracts  from 
the  journal  in  those  countries  will  be  introduced  here. 
It  may  be  remarked,  that  the  description  of  the  fall 
of  the  Rossburg  *  is  a  fair  specimen  of  its  merits. 

As  soon  as  he  arrived  in  London,  he  found  himself 
in  the  midst  of  a  delightful  circle  of  friends.  A  short 
extract  from  his  journal  while  there  will  give  some 
idea  of  the  enchantment  of  this  society  to  a  young 
man  of  twenty-three. 

'  Tuesday,  June  26th.  Dined  with  Dr.  Rees,  editor  of 
the  Encyclopedia.  Introduced  to  Dr.  Aiken  and  his  son 
Charles.  To  Mr.  Jones,  the  author  of  a  Greek  grammar. 
At  the  dinner  there  was  a  truly  pleasant  and  instructive  con- 
versation. It  turned  upon  the  evidences  of  a  future  state 
from  the  light  of  nature.  Dr.  Rees  is  a  man  of  amiable 
manners,  various  learning,  some  anecdote,  and  talents  more 
than  common. 

'  Thursday,  2$th.  Breakfasted  with  Mr.  Jones.  We  had 
a  truly  learned  and  delightful  conversation.  Mr.  Jones  had 
studied  with  Gilbert  Wakefield. 

'  Monday,  July  2d.  Went  to  the  British  Museum  at 
twelve  o'clock.  Dined  at  Mr.  William  Vaughan's,  in  com- 
pany with  Granville  Sharp,  Dr.  Aiken  and  Charles,  Mr. 
Ellis,  a  writer  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  G.  S.  fully  be- 
lieves in  the  agency  of  a  personal  devil  in  the  vices  of 
mankind.  \ 

'  Tuesday.  Dined  at  Dr.  Rees's,  with  Mr.  Belsham,  Mr. 
Tooke,  Mr.  William  Taylor  of  Norwich.  Conversation  de- 
lightful.    The  tone  is  certainly  higher  than  with  us. 

'  Wednesday.  At  Mr.  William  Vaughan's,  with  a  learned 
party. 

*  Published  first  in  the  Anthology.  It  also  makes  a  part  of  J.  S. 
Buckminster's  Works,  first  collected  in  1839. 


JOURNAL  IN  LONDON.  2<63 

'  Thursday.  Breakfasted  at  Sir  Joseph  Banks's.  Intro- 
duced to  Sir  Charles  Blagden,and  Mr.  William  Smith,  Presi- 
dent of  the  Linnaean  Society.  Dined  with  Mr.  Jones. 
Introduced  to  Dr.  Young,  of  the  Scots'  Church. 

'  Saturday.     Dined  at  Hackney,  with  Mr.  Belsham. 

'  Sunday.     Attended  church  at  the  Foundling  Hospital. 

'  Monday.  Dined  at  the  Rev.  Mr.  Jervis's,  Gray's  Inn 
Square,  with  a  large  party.  Supped  at  Gilbert  Wakefield's, 
with  only  his  daughter  present. 

'  Tuesday.  Dined  at  Sir  Joseph  Banks's  in  the  country. 
Present,  Sir  Charles  Blagden,  Mr.  Dalrymple,  author  of  a 
Collection  of  Voyages,  Mr.  William  Smyth,  by  favor  of  a 
ticket  from  whom,  1  went  to  the  House  of  Commons  in  the 
evening.  Subject  :  American  Intercourse  bill.  Mr.  Grant, 
Master  of  the  Rolls,  spoke  against  it.  Lord  Henry  Petty  in 
explanation.  Next  day,  I  was  introduced  to  Lord  Henry 
Petty  at  Mr.  Vaughan's,  and  to  Mr.  Planta,  Librarian  of  the 
British  Museum. 

'  Thursday.     Dined  at  Mr.  Grant's,  Master  of  the  Rolls. 

'  July  8th.  Called  on  Mr.  VVilberforce,  by  appointment, 
and  found  him  at  dinner.  As  I  was  engaged  to  dine,  I  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  for  another  day.' 

A  month  was  passed  in  this  delightful  manner  in 
London,  and  he  had  invitations  from  a  constantly 
increasing  circle  of  literary  persons  for  another 
month.  But  an  attack  of  his  complaint  warned  him 
that  he  must  complete  his  tour  in  Switzerland  before 
cold  weather,  and  he  and  his  friend,  Mr.  Thacher, 
tore  themselves  away  from  the  fascination  of  London 
society. 

From  Switzerland  the  friends  directed  their  course 
to  Paris,  where  their  residence  was  protracted  to  more 
than  five   months,   while   nearly    all   correspondence 


264  RESIDENCE    IN    PARIS. 

with  England  was  cut  off  by  the  operation  of  the 
Berlin  and  Milan  decrees.  At  the  same  time,  there 
was  no  direct  communication  with  the  United  States 
from  France.  The  enchantments  of  Paris  failed  in 
some  degree  of  their  influence  upon  my  brother. 
Even  where  the  treasures  of  the  whole  continent 
were  collected,  he  could  not  be  entirely  contented, 
because  the  objects  that  would  most  conduce  to  the 
great  purpose  of  his  life  were  not  there.  He  meas- 
ured every  thing,  not  by  the  relations  of  pleasure, 
but  of  duty,  and  dwelt 

'  As  ever  in  the  great  Taskmaster's  eye.' 

He  kept  no  journal  of  his  residence  in  Paris,  but 
merely  wrote  with  a  pencil,  in  a  common  pocket- 
book,  descriptions  of  some  of  the  interesting  persons 
with  whom  he  became  acquainted.  These  are  nearly 
effaced;  the  names  of  Madame  de  Stael,  Benjamin 
Constant,  Count  Rumford,  only  give  rise  to  regret 
that  the  remarks  of  so  young  and  fresh  an  observer 
upon  persons  now  consecrated  for  ever  to  fame  should 
be  lost.  He  witnessed  two  very  interesting  events 
in  Paris.  At  the  sitting  of  the  great  Jewish  Sanhe- 
drim, convened  by  Napoleon,  in  the  winter  of  1806-7, 
he  was  present,  and  took  notes.  He  was  also  present 
at  the  reception  of  Cardinal  Maury  at  the  Institute. 
It  was  to  have  been  a  grand  public  reception,  but  the 
Cardinal  insisted  upon  being  addressed  by  the  title  of 
Monsigneur,  which  he  conceived  he  had  a  right  to 
demand,  but  which  his  colleagues  of  the  Institute 
were  not  disposed  to  grant.  The  dispute  was  sub- 
mitted to  the  Emperor,  who  postponed  the  public  re- 
ception. It  was  therefore  private,  but  not  the  less 
interestins;. 


RESIDENCE    IN    PARIS.  265 

These  five  months  in  Paris,  amid  the  unapprecia- 
ble  and  inexhaustible  treasures  of  Europe  and  of  the 
fine  arts  at  this  time  collected  and  stored  there  by 
Bonaparte,  must  have  been  most  rich  in  instruction. 
Probably  the  strict  surveillance  exercised  over  foreign- 
ers, especially  those  so  much  resembling  Englishmen, 
was  the  reason  that  no  journal  or  record  was  kept  of 
his  residence  in  Paris.  Much  of  his  time  was  spent 
in  collecting  and  sending  to  America  a  valuable  libra- 
ry of  the  choicest  writers  in  theological,  classical,  and 
general  literature,  amounting  to  about  three  thousand 
volumes.  For  this  purpose  he  spent  nearly  the  whole 
of  his  little  maternal  fortune,  saying  to  himself,  '  Thou 
hast  goods  laid  up  for  many  years.'  This  exulting 
remark  is  immediately  followed  by  the  reflection,  — 
'  Although  I  may,  by  the  Providence  of  God,  be  cut 
off"  from  the  enjoyment  of  these  luxuries  of  the  mind, 
they  will  be  a  treasure  to  those  who  may  succeed  me, 
like  the  hoards  of  a  miser  scattered  after  his  death. 
I  feel  that,  by  every  book  which  I  send  out,  I  do 
something  for  my  dear  country,  which  the  love  of 
money  seems  to  .be  depressing  into  unlettered  bar- 
barism.' 

It  must  be  remembered  that  this  was  written  forty 
years  ago ;  and  perhaps  remarks  like  the  above,  and 
the  energies  of  his  young  mind  directed  to  this  pur- 
pose, did  something  towards  awakening  the  love  of 
literature,  which  has  since  gone  hand  in  hand  with 
the  love  of  money,  in  that  part  of  the  Slate  which 
claimed  his  fondest  affection. 

Since  the  days  of  this  visit  to  the  old  world,  the 
public  has  become  so  familiar  with  the  objects  of 
interest  which  claimed  his  attention,  that  great  reluc- 


266  IMPRESSIONS    OF    SEA    LIFE. 

taiice  has  been  felt  to  make  such  selections  from  h-s 
letters  as  will  continue  the  thread  of  the  narrative. 
Had  they  been  published  at  the  time  they  were  writ- 
ten, when  England  and  France  were  comparatively 
new  to  travellers  from  the  United  States,  they  would 
have  possessed  an  interest  from  the  freshness  of  re- 
mark every  where  exhibited.  As  the  reflection  has 
been  constantly  forced  upon  me,  that  the  places  and 
objects  of  art  have  become  familiar  to  us,  and  that 
the  persons  with  whom  he  became  acquainted,  how- 
ever celebrated  then,  have  faded  from  the  memory 
of  the  present,  I  have  erased  page  after  page  of  letters 
that  I  had  copied,  and  have  retained  only  th  se  which 
exhibit  the  mind  and  feelings  of  the  writer ;  so  that, 
if  an  interest  has  been  awakened  in  him,  they  may, 
by  their  personality,  impart  more  freshness  to  this 
memoir  of  his  life. 

We  go  back  to  his  arrival  in  Liverpool,  and  begin 
with  his  first  letter.     To  his  father  :  — 

'  Liverpool,  June  6th,  1806. 

'  My  dear  Father,  —  Every  thing  seems  to  have  con- 
spired, under  the  blessing  of  God,  1o  make  our  passage 
pleasant,  safe,  and  quick.  I  have  now  been  a  few  hours  in 
Liverpool,  and  find  that  a  vessel  sails  early  to-morrow  morn- 
ing for  Boston.  These  few  lines  will  tell  you  that  we  had  a 
passage  of  twenty-three  days  ;  that  I  have  hardly  known 
any  of  the  dangers  or  trials  of  the  sea.  I  cannot  find  a 
single  subject  of  complaint  in  any  of  the  circumstances  of 
this  voyage.  The  order  of  the  ship  was  surprising,  and  far 
beyond  what  I  had  anticipated.  I  have  not  heard  more  than 
three  instances  of  profane  language  on  board,  which  I  could 
not  have  said  if  I  had  remained  in  Boston.  We  had  reli- 
gious services  on  every  Sabbath  ;  once,  I  read  printed  ser- 
mons, and  the   other  days  my  own.     The  shortness  of  the 


CORRESPONDENCE.  267 

passage  will  hardly  allow  me  to  form  any  opinion  of  its 
probable  effect  on  my  health.  But,  whether  it  should  be 
favorable  or  useless,  or  even  unfavorable,  I  shall  submit,  I 
hope,  with  resignation,  satisfied  that  the  step  I  have  taken 
was  the  dictate  of  duty. 

'  I  cannot  be  sufficiently  grateful  to  the  kind  and  protect- 
ing Providence  of  God,  which  has  made  my  voyage  so 
pleasant,  so  safe,  and  so  short.  I  shall  have  company  up 
to  London,  where  I  shall  go  in  a  few  days,  by  the  way  of 
Manchester.  My  love  to  my  dear  sisters  and  all  friends. 
God  grant  that  I  may  never  again  be  obliged  to  undergo  the 
dreadful  pain  of  parting  from  them  ! ' 

He  writes  the  same  day  to  his  sisters  :  — 

'  Within  the  last  hour,  I  put  my  foot  on  the  wharf  at 
Liverpool,  after  a  passage  of  twenty-three  days  from  Boston. 
I  have  very  few  wonders,  or  "  moving  accidents  by  flood," 
to  recount ;  but  the  trifling  varieties  of  my  voyage  will  not, 
I  am  confident,  be  more  interesting  to  any  person  in  my 
dear  native  land  than  to  you,  jny  beloved  sisters,  who  have 
so  often  listened,  with  concern  and  pleasure,  to  the  narra- 
tive of  your  dear  brother's  fortunes  when  at  home  ;  and  I 
am  sure  the  eagerness  with  which  you  will  receive  this 
letter,  compared  with  the  eagerness  with  which  you  have 
formerly  opened  my  letters,  will  be  increased  quite  in  pro- 
portion to  the  distance.  During  the  voyage,  1  gazed  fre- 
quently, thinking  of  you,  my  beloved  sisters,  with  silent 
wonder  and  delight,  at  the  sun,  quenching  his  fiery  beams 
as  he  sank  in  the  waves  of  the  western  ocean,  and  enjoyed 
the  thought  that  to  you,  in  Portsmouth,  he  had  not  yet  dis- 
appeared ;  but  that  you  would  be  blessed,  this  day,  with 
several  hours  more  of  sunshine,  (may  it  be  also  that  of  the 
heart,)  after  your  brother  had  retired  to  rest 

'  Nothing  alarming  or  wonderful  occurred  during  the  re- 
mainder of  our  voyage.  We  have  taken  excellent  lodgings 
at  the  Star  and  Garter,  in  Liverpool.     The  gentleman  to 


■268  LETTERS  FROBI  EUROPE. 

whom  I  have  had  letters  of  introduction  have  treated  me 
with  every  possible  civility.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Yates,  a  dis- 
senting minister,  in  Liverpool,  to  whom  I  delivered  my  first 
letter  asked  me  to  dine  with  him  the  next  day,  (Sunday,) 
and  urged  me  much  to  preach  for  him  ;  but  I  declined.  In 
the  evening,  I  walked  out  with  his  son,  and  took  tea  at  his 
son's  little  elegant  cottage,  about  a  mile  from  the  town ; 
returned  about  nine  o'clock,  and  supped  with  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Yates  and  a  few  friends,  to  some  of  whom  I  had  letters  of 
introduction. 

'■June  \^th.  The  ladies  in  Liverpool  dress  much,  and 
are  rather  fond  of  being:  gazed  at.  You  would  be  aston- 
ished  to  find  how  stout  and  robust  are  the  English  women. 
I  have  hardly  seen  ten  slender  forms ;  though  the  defect  is 
amply  compensated  by  the  healthiness  of  their  complexions, 
and  the  native  glow  of  their  cheeks.  But  a  young  lady  in 
Mrs.  N.'s  boarding-school,  if  she  found  herself  as  gross  as 
the  most  fashionable  Liverpool  belles,  would  be  unhappy 
from  morning  to  night.  Another  circumstance,  which  forci- 
bly strikes  an  American,  is,  th^  prodigious  number  of  women 
of  the  lower  order  who  fill  the  streets,  so  that  you  contin- 
ually see  three  women  at  least  to  one  man.  Their  appear- 
ance is  the  most  direful  you  can  imagine.  They  perform 
labor  of  the  heaviest  and  dirtiest  kind,  such  as  would  soon 
kill  an  American  woman.  But,  my  dearest  sisters,  I  must 
finish  this  letter,  for  it  is  time  to  set  off  for  Manchester,  on 
my  way  to  London.  Mr.  Williams  writes  that  he  is  ex- 
pecting me,  and  has  pi'epared  rooms  for  my  use  in  his 
house.  No.  13,  Finsbury  Square.  I  shall  spend  to-morrow 
and  next  day  in  Manchester,  and  reach  London,  I  hope, 
before  the  19th,  as  I  must  appear  at  the  Alien  Ofiice  by  that 
day. 

'  When  I  am  a  little  more  collected,  I  hope  I  shall  write 
to  you  a  better  and  longer  letter.  God  bless  you,  my  dear 
sisters,  and  train  you  up  for  both  worlds.  Write  me  very 
particularly  and  unreservedly  about  papa's  health. 

'  Your  affectionate  brother.' 


LETTERS  FROM  EUROPE.  269 

To  Mrs.  Lyman  :  — 

'  Manchester,  June  14,  1806. 

'My  dear  Madam,  —  1  cannot  let  the  first  impressions, 
which  I  received  upon  visiting  this  delightful  country,  wear 
away  without  communicating  them  to  you,  who  feel  an 
interest  in  the  improvement  and  ornamental  cultivation  of 
the  soil  of  New  England.  In  driving  from  Liverpool  to 
Manchester,  —  where  I  shall  remain  as  little  time  as  possible, 
for  Manchester  is  the  region  of  volcanoes,  and  as  smoky  as 
the  work-shop  of  Vulcan,  —  I  was  exclaiming,  at  every  rod 
of  ground  I  passed  over,  What  an  exquisite  country  !  what 
delightful  openings!  what  rich  fields!  what  tasteful  clumps! 
what  velvet  lawns  !  what  luxuriant  vegetation  !  And  yet  this 
is  the  least  ornamented  part  of  England. 

''July  Wth.  Thus  far  I  wrote  in  Manchester,  not  sus- 
pecting that  I  should  not  take  up  my  pen  again  till  I 
reached  London.  And  now,  in  the  smoke  and  dust  of  this 
astonishing  city,  I  bid  adieu  (I  cannot  say  a  reluctant  adieu) 
to  the  most  charming  country  on  the  face  of  the  earth ;  for 
I  must  yet  acknowledge,  although  with  some  shame,  that 
the  literary  luxury  of  the  city  has  more  charms  for  me  than 
even  the  park  at  Blenheim,  adorned  as  it  is  with  the  oaks 
of  the  last  centuiy,  and  enlivened  with  the  gambols  of  fifteen 
hundred  deer. 

'  I  stop  to  tell  you  that  I  have  just  received  letters  from 
Boston.  I  thank  you  all  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart ;  but 
they  have  spoiled  this  day's  sport ;  I  shall  see  nothing  in 
London  to-day  with  any  pleasure.  Home,  home  will  fill 
my  heart.  Tell  Mr.  Lyman  that  he  need  be  under  no 
apprehension  about  my  reading,  for  in  truth  I  find  not  a 
moment  even  to  write  a  line  of  a  journal,  which  I  proposed 
to"  keep,  and  hardly  to  repay  the  kindness  of  the  friends 
who  have  written  to  me.  Mr.  Thacher  has  arrived,  in  fine 
health.  I  cannot  express  to  you  the  addition  which  his 
presence  makes  to  the  obligation  under  which  I  am  laid 
to  my  friends  in  Boston. 
23* 


270  VISIT    TO    SIR    JOSEPH    BANKS. 

'  Perhaps  you  will  be  amused  with  hearing  of  some  of 
my  excursions.  Well,  then  :  last  Tuesday,  I  went  out  with 
Mr.  William  Vaughan  to  dine  at  Sir  Joseph  Banks's,  who, 
you  know,  has  a  great  reputation  all  over  the  world  for  his 
science  and  literary  courtesy.  Upon  our  arrival,  we  were 
introduced  into  the  garden,  which  serves  for  a  drawing- 
I'oom  in  the  summer.  The  first  object  that  presented  itself 
was  a  tall  woman,  dressed  in  men's  clothes.  This  proved 
to  be  Lady  Banks's  sister.  You  will  hardly  credit  me  when 
I  tell  you  that  she  wore  a  man's  hat,  with  a  black  plume,  a 
cravat,  a  shirt  with  a  wide  frill,  a  short  huntsman's  coat, 
wristbands  and  sleeve-buttons  visible,  with  no  mark  of  her 
sex  but  a  short  petticoat ;  and  this,  I  am  told,  is  a  fashion- 
able riding  dress !  After  waiting  a  little  time,  appeared 
Sir  Joseph,  who  has  such  an  inveterate  gout,  that  he  moves 
with  his  legs  far  apart,  at  the  rate  of  about  ten  feet  in  ten 
minutes.  Last  of  all  entered  my  lady,  who  is  truly  a  moving 
mountain  of  flesh  and  blood  ;  and  if  ever  Sir  John  FalstafF 
had  been  allowed  by  Shakspeare  to  have  taken  a  wife,  this 
would  have  been  the  cara  sposa  for  him.  There  were 
several  other  gentlemen  at  dinner.  It  is  not  etiquette  for 
the  hostess  to  pay  much  attention  to  her  company,  and  I, 
who  sat  next  to  her,  was  abundantly  employed  in  helping 
her 

'  The  gentlemen  do  not  hand  the  ladies  to  the  table. 
They  sit  a  reasonable  time  after  the  cloth  is  removed,  and 
presently  we  are  summoned  into  the  drawing-room,  where 
coffee  is  provided,  of  which  it  is  the  fashion  to  take  one 
cup ;  tea  is  handed  afterwards.  But  to  return  to  Lady 
Banks :  her  favorite  passion  is  to  collect  china ;  and  she 
has  indeed  collected  a  superb  variety  of  dishes,  jars,  pots, 
cups,  saucers,  bowls,  ornaments,  of  all  ages,  colors,  sizes, 
brilliancy,  value,  and  brittleness.  A  more  capricious  toy- 
shop I  never  beheld,  though  I  was  obliged  to  keep  a  very 
grave  face  of  wonder  and  admiration,  while  she  dissertated 
learnedly  upon  the  separate  pieces,  and  looked  at  them  for 


RESIDENCE    IN    LONDON.  271 

the  thousandth  time,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  with  which  a 
painter  would  gaze  at  the  Transfiguration.  Sir  Joseph  has 
written  a  large  book  upon  the  subject  of  his  lady's  china, 
containing  dissertations  upon  the  antiquity  of"  certain  pieces 
connected  with  the  different  epochs  of  china  history.  This 
book  is  introduced  with  a  dedication  to  Lady  Banks,  and 
loaded  with  the  most  fulsome  address  to  the  royal  family, 
who  once  honored  my  lady's  china-room  with  a  visit.  Sir 
Joseph  cultivates  the  American  cranberry  with  great  suc- 
cess, and  his  ponds  are  filled  with  our  water-lilies. 

'  I  need  not  say  that  I  have  every  comfort  at  your 
brother's.  I  am  trying  to  persuade  Francis  to  accompany 
me  to  the  continent 

'  But  I  must  cease  writing,  or  you  will  cease  reading. 
Farewell !  May  God  with  his  choicest  blessings  have  you 
and  your  family  in  his  holy  keeping ! 

'  Your  dear  friend, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

To  his  father :  — 

'  London,  June  23d,  1806. 

'My  dear  Sir,  —  I  rejoice  to  inform  you  that  I  arrived 
safely  the  day  before  yesterday ;  that  I  am  agreeably 
accommodated  at  Mr.  Williams's,  in  Finsbury  Square  ;  -and 
although  this  is  in  the  city,  as  it  is  called,  and  very  remote 
from  that  part  of  the  town  to  which  most  of  my  letters  are 
directed,  yet  I  much  prefer  the  conveniences  of  this  resi- 
dence to  more  fashionable  lodo;ino;s  at  the  west  end. 

'  The  expenses  of  travelling  in  this  country  are  enor- 
mous  

'  This  is  intolerable  to  an  American,  but  it  is  not  to  be 
avoided.  In  this  country,  you  must  either  pay  money  libe- 
rally, or  you  will  be  paid  liberally  in  abuse. 

'  Most  of  the  persons  to  whom  I  have  been  introduced 
in  England  are  Dissenters,  and,  of  course,  Foxites  in  their 
politics.  Many  of  the  most  violent  of  them,  however,  begin 
to  be  uneasy  at  the  tardiness  with  which  Mr.  Fox  proceeds 


272 


OCCUPATION    IN    LONDON. 


in  those  measures  of  reform  to  which  he  has  always  pro- 
fessed himself  a  friend. 

'  I  attended  meeting  yesterday  at  the  old  Jewry,  formerly 
a  very  celebrated  place  of  worship  among  the  Dissenters, 
now  very  thinly  attended.  The  forms  of  service  reminded 
me  more  of  New  England  than  any  thing  I  have  yet  seen 
in  England.  A  chorister,  who  sat  below  the  j)ulpit,  always 
set  the  tune  ;  and,  so  natural  is  it  for  an  Englishman  to  be 
a  singer,  that,  really,  I  do  not  think  there  were  twenty  in 
the  congregation  who  did  not  join.  The  preacher  was  Dr. 
Rees,  a  good,  substantial  old  gentleman,  with  a  discourse 
an  hour  long. 

'  1  have  had  some  doubts  about  the  propriety  of  visiting 
the  places  of  public  amusement,  but  I  have  come  at  last  to 
the  conclusion,  that,  in  a  place  where  my  example  cannot 
be  of  evil  influence,  and  where  it  is  no  uncommon  thing 
for  clergymen  to  be  seen,  that  I  should  reproach  myself  if  I 
were  to  leave  England  without  having  observed  what  con- 
stitutes so  great  a  pait  of  the  national  character. 

'  I  should  be  happier  if  I  had  left  no  friends  at  home, 
but  the  recollection  of  their  kindness  and  my  own  happiness 
with  them,  whenever  it  returns,  causes  me  to  feel  more  like 
an  exile  than  a  traveller.  I  could  never,  1  am  persuaded, 
have  left  my  parish  from  any  motive  of  curiosity  or  per- 
sonal gratification.  My  health,  my  health  alone,  which  is 
to  you  and  me  the  most  interesting  subject,  is  in  no 
worse  a  state  than  when  I  left  Boston.  I  hope  in  a  few 
weeks  more  I  shall  be  able  to  speak  with  some  confidence. 
Hitherto  God  has  kept  my  feet  from  falling  and  my  soul 
from  death.  I  have  resisted  all  applications  to  preach.  I 
wish  to  feel  more  settled,  and  more  acquainted  with  the 
preachers  and  the  auditories  of  this  country,  before  I  show 
myself  in  the  pulpit. 

'  July  8th.  Since  I  wrote  the  above,  I  have  had  the 
pleasure  of  dining  with  Mr.  Wilberforce,  or  rather  of  sitting 
at  his  table  while  he  was  dining ;  for,  as  I  was  previously 


MR.    WILBERFORCE.  273 

engaged,  I  was  unwilling  to  spoil  my  dinner.  He  is  very 
much  interested  in  the  religious  condition  of  the  United 
States,  and  extremely  inquisitive  as  to  the  attention  paid  to 
religious  observances.  I  wish  I  could  have  given  him  a 
more  favorable  account  of  the  practical  religion  of  my 
dear  native  land,  and  have  been  able  to  say  with  confi- 
dence that  our  personal  holiness  was  greater  than  in  the 
days  of  yore.  God  grant  that  I  may  never  live  to  see  New 
England  sunk  in  such  religious  indifference  and  public 
contempt  for  Christianity  as  prevails,  1  fear,  in  the  parent 
country. 

'  I  am  extremely  obliged  to  E.  for  her  kind  letter  from 
Boston ;  tell  her  that  I  sincerely  hope  the  kindness  she 
receives  there  is  paid  as  much  to  her  intrinsic  worth,  as 
to  my  memory ;  but  I  am  willing  that  some  of  it  should 
be  shown  to  her  on  my  account,  because  it  will  tend  to 
keep  alive  in  her  mind  a  more  tender  recollection  of  her 
brother.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  many  young 
ladies  here,  the  daughters  of  clergymen  and  laymen ;  but  I 
have  seen  none  who  have  not  taught  me  to  love  and  esteem 
my  sisters  more  than  ever.  I  have  seen  a  daughter  of 
G.  Wakefield,  who  knows  more  Greek  and  Latin  than  any 
woman  in  England,  and  is  now  about  to  be  married  ;  Lucy 
Aiken,  daughter  of  Dr.  Aiken,  a  young  lady  of  remarkable 
talents  and  accomplishments  ;  and  many  others,  some  of 
whom  are  connoisseurs  in  painting,  and  some  in  music. 
My  next  letter  to  my  sisters  may  be  from  the  midst  of  the 
luxury  of  Paris  or  the  simplicity  of  Switzerland.  Love  to 
all  the  little  ones.  What  can  I  procure  for  them  here  which 
may  be  a  pleasure  or  a  profit,  and  remind  them  of  their 
dear  brother  ? 

'  I  am  just  informed  that  no  captain  will  venture  to  take 
us  over  to  Rotterdam,  and  therefore  we  must  take  passage 
in  a  vile  Dutch  vessel  for  Harlingen,  because  the  French 
officers  there  will  let  us  pass  for  a  small  fee.  This  Dutch 
hoy  is  built  much  like  a  butter-boat,  and  called  the    Tivo 


274  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Sisters.  My  present  plan  is  to  proceed  to  Switzerland 
so  as  to  travel  on  foot  through  that  mountain  region  before 
September,  when  it  will  be  too  cold.  From  Geneva  we 
propose  to  cross  the  country  to  Schaffhausen,  and  thus 
to  come  down  the  Rhine.  However,  I  may  be  obliged  to 
deviate  from  this  route  by  a  thousand  unforeseen  circum- 
stances. 

'  The  inclosed  letter  to  my  sisters  is  written  chiefly  for 
their  entertainment.  O,  that  they  may  reap  half  the  delight 
from  it  that  I  have  from  reading  the  letters  I  have  this 
morning  received  from  my  friends  in  America,  among 
whom,  you  at  Portsmouth  are  the  dearest,  therefore  let 
your  letters  be  the  longest.  "  As  cool  waters,"  etc.  Do 
not  be  too  much  grieved,  my  dear  friends,  to  hear  that  I 
have  had  an  ill  turn  in  London ;  it  was  slight,  very  slight, 
and  after  a  long  interval.  I  have  hopes,  great  hopes.  The 
hand  of  Providence  seems  to  have  arranged  with  wonderful 
favor  all  the  past  circumstances  of  my  voyage,  and  of  my 
situation  here,  and  the  measure  of  God's  favor  is  filled  by 
the  arrival  of  my  friend  Thacher  this  morning.  My  last 
words  are,  write,  write,  quocunque  moclo,  write. 

'  Your  dear  son, 

'  J.  S.  B.' 

'  Rottei-aam,  Aug.  11th,  1806. 

'My  dear  Sisters,  —  Here  I  am  at  last,  with  leisure 
enough  to  sit  down  and  give  you  a  very  few  notices  of 
my  tour  to  this  place.  There  is  nothing  in  this  city  but 
merchants,  and  boats,  and  canals ;  and  after  having  seen 
one  city  in  Holland,  you  have  seen  all.  The  streets,  even 
in  these  most  thronged  quarters,  are  washed  and  scrubbed 
every  day,  so  that  you  might  without  much  inconvenience 
absolutely  dine  off  the  pavement. 

'  The  houses  are  all  joined  to  one  another,  and  all  is 
neatness,  ornament,  stillness,  and  singularity.  But  though 
I  am  now  so  comfortably  seated  at  a  writing-table,  in  an  inn 


PASSAGE    TO    HOLLAND.  275 

called  the  Marshal  Turcnne,  the  hardships  and  vexations, 
the  inconvenience  and  imposition,  which  I  have  passed 
through  since  I  left  London,  as  much  exceed  all  that  I 
have  ever  suffered  before,  as  the  accommodations  of  a 
well-regulated  family  exceed  the  irregularity  of  a  dirty 
Dutch  hoy.  After  passing  through  all  the  vexatious  delays 
of  the  alien  office  in  London,  in  order  to  obtain  passports 
for  leaving  the  kingdom,  as  there  is  no  regular  mode  of 
communication  with  the  continent,  I  engaged  with  a  Dutch 
captain  to  take  four  of  us  over  to  Harlingen,  for  which  we 
paid  him  ten  guineas  apiece  ;  and  after  going  on  board,  we 
had  each  to  pay  two  guineas  more,  in  order  to  persuade 
him  to  drop  down  the  river  Thames  to  Chatham  that  night, 
so  that  we  might  be  able  to  sail  in  the  morning.  When  we 
reached  the  vessel,  we  found  five  passengers  besides  our- 
selves, with  not  the  shadow  of  accommodation  for  sleeping, 
except  two  dirty  narrow  births  already  occupied  by  a  gentle- 
man and  his  wife.  Accordingly,  we  took  our  lodgings  in 
the  hold,  where  not  one  of  us  could  stand  upright ;  and  after 
three  days  and  nights  of  sea-sickness,  during  which  time 
none  of  us  had  our  clothes  off,  we  reached  Harlingen.  If 
you  will  look  upon  the  map,  you  will  see  that,  in  order  to 
reach  Amsterdam  from  thence,  we  have  to  cross  a  large 
sea,  called  Zuyder  Zee  ;  so,  after  a  night's  rest,  we  took 
places  at  four  o'clock  the  next  morning  in  the  daily  packet 
for  Amsterdam.  The  usual  length  of  a  passage  is  twelve 
hours,  but  after  creeping  along  the  whole  day  till  dark,  we 
found  that  we  had  not  accomplished  half  our  voyage,  but 
that  we  must  remain  all  night  on  board  this  little  vessel, 
crowded  with  more  than  fifty  passengers,  not  a  word  of 
whose  rough  guttural  gibberish  could  we  understand. 

*  Here,  after  all  our  hardships,  I  found,  that,  in  order  to 
shelter  ourselves  from  the  rain,  we  must  retreat  to  the 
hold  of  the  vessel,  in  which  they  usually  carry  cows. 
Indeed,  it  was  a  stable.  There  we  sat  upon  our  trunks  all 
night,  with  aching  bones,  fatigued  enough  to  drop  to  sleep 


276  HOLLAND. 

every  moment,  but  in  such  inconvenient  postures,  that  we 
could  not  indulge  ourselves  in  forgetful ness.  The  only- 
person  with  whom  I  could  hold  any  conversation  was  the 
pastor  of  a  Protestant  church  at  Leeuwarden.  He  was 
passing,  like  ourselves,  to  Amsterdam,  and,  hearing  from 
Mr.  Williams,  who  spoke  French,  that  I  was  an  American 
clergyman,  he  immediately  began  a  conversation  in  Latin, 
which  I  supported  with  some  difficulty,  in  consequence  of 
the  mode  of  pronouncing  Latin  which  is  universal  on  the 
continent.  He  appeared  to  be  a  most  worthy  man,  but  with 
the  most  preposterous  notions  about  our  country.  I  really 
regretted  that  we  were  obliged  to  part  so  soon.  [After  all, 
they  could  not  reach  Amsterdam,  and  were  obliged  to  walk 
six  or  seven  miles.] 

'  I  could  fill  quires  of  paper  with  descriptions  of  the 
singular  manners  and  costumes  of  the  Dutch,  especially 
those  of  North  Holland,  but  I  will  only  tell  you  a  little  of 
the  dresses  of  the  women.  Imagine  a  short  woman,  with  a 
baby  face,  covered  with  the  whole  breadth  of  one  of  those 
straw  hats  which  you  used  to  buy  to  make  bonnets,  with 
two  flat  gold  plates  over  the  ears,  to  which  are  suspended 
a  half-pound  weight  of  gold  or  silver  ear-rings,  which  have 
descended  in  the  family  through  many  generations.  On 
her  head  she  wears  a  neat,  close  cap,  with  a  long  streamer 
on  each  side,  descending  over  the  shoulders.  Then  comes 
a  chintz  gown,  with  a  long  waist  down  to  the  hips,  and 
followed  by  at  least  a  dozen  thick  petticoats,  in  the  midst 
of  summer.  Their  faces  are  as  uninteresting  as  the  Chinese, 
and  their  mode  of  dress  (either  of  male  or  female)  has  not 
altered  for  two  hundred  years.  As  to  the  men,  so  outre  is 
their  appearance,  that  I  can  only  say  they  were  made  for 
the  women.  Our  good  old  Deacon  Penhallow  would  be 
thought  quite  a  beau  compared  with  any  Dutchman  Avhom  I 
have  yet  seen.  The  men  smoke  from  morning  to  night. 
•Their  good  qualities  are  neatness  and  punctuality.  Indeed, 
so  punctual  are  they  in  travelling,  that  they  reckon  by  hours 
instead  of  miles. 


HOLLAND.  277 

'  The  dead  level  of  Holland  is  a  garden  throughout,  and, 
in  passing  the  numerous  country  houses  which  border  their 
canals,  I  was  continually  reminded,  of  some  tree  or  shrub 
which  I  had  seen  blooming  in  the  garden  at  VValtham.  We 
have  just  concluded  to  go  to  Switzerland,  by  the  passage  up 
the  Rhine  to  Basle,  thence  to  Geneva,  and  so  back  to  Paris ; 
so  that  we  shall  not  see  the  great  city  before  the  latter  part 
of  September,  when  half  the  population  of  England  will 
probably  have  rushed  to  Paris  to  be  present  at  the  grand 
fete  which  Napoleon  is  preparing.  I  need  not  tell  you  that 
Lord  Lauderdale  is  received  with  great  joy,  and  that  peace 
is  expected  to  be  signed  in  a  few  days.  God  bless  you,  my 
dear  sisters,  and  make  you  worthy  of  his  love  and  of  the  love 
of  all  the  good'and  wise.  Write  to  me  very  particularly 
about  papa's  health.     Your  dear  brother, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

As  his  account  of  the  difficulties  of  travelling  upon 
the  continent  possesses,  when  contrasted  with  the 
facilities  that  have  since  been  enjoyed,  a  sort  of  his- 
torical interest,  the  extracts  from  letters  of  that  period 
are  more  copious.  It  is  curious  to  remark  the  embar- 
rassments that  have  been  oflered  to  travelling  during 
the  past  year  of  revolutions,  and  the  progress  of  pub- 
lic sentiment,  which  seems  to  produce  the  same  diffi- 
culties that  were  caused  by  despotism  fifty  years 
ago. 

After  having  been  turned  out  of  the  inn  at  Coblentz, 
in  order  to  accommodate  Louis,  King"  of  Holland,  and 
being  detained  there  a  day,  because  the  king  took 
possession  of  all  the  post-horses,  they  were  still  more 
vexed  at  an  embargo  in  Strasburg,  till  they  could 
send  to  Paris  for  permission  to  proceed  on  their 
journey. 

24 


278  STRASBURG. 

'  Strasbuvg,  August  30,  1806. 

'My  dear  Sir,  —  I  am  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  to 
Avrite  you  a  line,  though  I  am  sadly  vexed  at  the  cause  of 
my  present  leisure.  We  had  travelled  up  the  Rhine  as  far 
as  Mayence,  on  our  way  to  Switzerland  with  the  passports 
which  we  took  of  the  American  Consul  at  Amsterdam, 
indorsed  by  the  French  Commissary  in  that  city.  These, 
we  were  assured,  would  carry  us  through  the  whole  of  that 
part  of  our  route  which  might  lie  through  French  territory. 
At  Mentz,  however,  upon  going  before  the  Secretary  of 
Police,  we  learned,  to  our  inexpressible  surprise  and  morti- 
fication, that  we  could  not  proceed  further  than  Strasburg 
without  passports  from  Paris.  So  the  police  officer  took 
our  American  passports  to  send  them  on  to  the  capital, 
there  to  learn  if  we  may  be  permitted  to  travel  in  France. 
In  the  mean  time,  he  required  us  to  take  a  passeporte  pro- 
tnsoire  of  him,  to  carry  us  to  Strasburg ;  and  informed  us 
that  we  should  be  detained  there  ten  days,  or  till  our  per- 
mits should  arrive  from  Paris.  Here,  therefore,  we  are, 
in  a  city  where  not  an  individual  is  known  to  us,  and 
where  nothing  is  spoken  but  German  or  French.  If  our 
passports  should  not  be  sent  back  to  us,  we  must  return  to 
Holland  as  we  came.  I  have  not  much  apprehension  on 
this  score  ;  the  greatest  inconvenience  is,  that  we  are  losing 
time  and  money,  and  that  the  rest  of  our  tour  must  be  very 
much  hurried. 

'  We  have  hitherto  seen  nothing  but  extremes  ;  the  most 
enchanting  scenery  that  poet  ever  fancied,  or  painter  ever 
drew,  and  the  most  wretched  cities  and  villages  which 
poverty,  filth,  superstition,  and  vice,  and  the  residence  of 
soldiery,  can  make.  I  keep  a  little  journal,  which  may 
perhaps  at  some  future  time  be  interesting  to  myself,  but 
cannot  be  very  much  so  to  any  one  else.  The  only 
Protestant  church  which  I  have  seen  since  leaving  Holland, 
is  in  this  city,  and  this  is  Lutheran.  I  have  been  fairly 
home-sick  during  this  tour,  and  I  believe  nothing  has  con- 


STRASBTTRG.  279 

tributed  to  it  more  than  the  miserable  dearth  of  religious 
instruction,  and  I  fear,  too,  of  the  spirit  of  Christianity. 
However,  though  I  have  been  a  little  home-sick,  yet,  by 
the  blessing  of  God,  my  health  has  been  otherwise  unin- 
terrupted since  I  left  England.' 

An  extract  from  the  journal  of  the  detention  of  the 
travellers  at  Strasbnrg  is  inserted.  It  is  a  fair  speci- 
men of  the  whole  journal. 

'  Strashurg,  August  28th.  Of  this  city  I  had  formed 
agreeable  expectations,  —  whether  from  the  appearance 
of  the  country  which  preceded  it,  or  from  some  pleasant 
classical  associations,  I  know  not.  The  Argentorum  of 
the  Romans  has  been  long  familiar  to  my  imagination 
from  the  circumstance  of  the  Typographical  Society  of 
Deuxponts  removing  here  at  the  beginning  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, from  which  time  the  title-pages  of  their  edition  of  the 
classics  have  borne  the  name  of  Argentoratum.  The  lofty 
spire  of  the  cathedral  we  distinctly  saw  at  the  distance  of 
eight  miles,  and  it  was  occasionally  visible  through  the 
whole  of  the  last  two  posts ! 

'  It  was  Sunday,  about  three  o'clock,  when  we  entered  the 
gate  of  the  city,  where  we  left  our  passeports  provisoires. 
After  dinner,  we  visited  the  interior  of  the  cathedral,  which 
can  hardly  be  said  to  be  worthy  of  the  exquisite  richness 
and  beauty  of  the  tower  ;  indeed,  how  was  it  possible  ? 
The  church  was  full  of  confessionals,  and  the  confessionals 
appeared  to  be  well  filled.  The  pillars  which  support  the 
nave  are  hung  with  Gobeline  tapestry,  wrought  from  designs 
which  picture  the  imaginary  life  of  the  Virgin,  ending  with 
her  assumption.  The  altar  and  choir  appear  to  be  modern, 
and  entirely  unworthy  the  rest  of  the  building. 

'  Every  thing  that  we  saw  in  Strasburg  told  us  that  it  was 
rather  French  than  German;  and  the  bustle,  the  life  and 
gayety  of  the  place,  without  much  real  business,  are  truly 


280  FRENCH    THEATRE. 

characteristic  of  French  cities.  We  undertook  to  walk 
round  the  ramparts,  but  were  arrested  in  tlie  midst  of  our 
promenade  by  the  rough  command  of  an  officer,  who  called 
out,  '■'■' Descendez,  Messieurs!''''  The  barracks,  which  are 
prodigiously  extensive  buildings,  appeared  to  be  full  of 
soldiers,  and  not  a  few  of  those  who  saw  the  day  of  Aus- 
terlitz  are  here,  resting  from  their  labors  and  their  wounds. 
The  number  of  wounded  soldiers  that  we  see  everywhere 
tells  the  story  of  the  last  few  years. 

'  The  evening  of  Monday  we  passed  at  the  Thedtre  Fran- 
9ais  and  Allemande.  The  proportion,  however,  which  the 
performances  in  French  bear  to  those  in  German,  is,  I  sus- 
pect, five  or  six  to  one.  I  could  understand  but  very  little 
of  the  comedy,  but  I  am  satisfied  that  the  French  theatre 
may  be  much  superior  to  the  English.  They  have  not  so 
good  plays,  but  I  am  assured  they  have  better  actors.  There 
is  a  quickness  of  perception,  a  delicacy,  united  with  a  cer- 
tain rapidity  of  feeling,  and  a  continual  sense  of  propriety 
in  the  management  of  scenes,  which  the  English  are  either 
too  slow  or  too  wise  to  possess.  The  mutes  on  the  French 
stage  appear  to  be  interested  in  what  is  going  forward,  and 
never  stand  in  that  awkward  or  listless  manner  which  you 
observe  in  England  and  with  us.  Add  to  this,  the  French 
articulation  is  more  distinct,  their  pronunciation  perffect, 
and  their  voices  upon  a  higher  key  than  the  English. 
These  observations  are  the  hasty  result  of  two  nights'  ex- 
perience, and  from  one  who  knows  very  little  of  the  lan- 
guage. Perhaps  a  half  hour  at  the  Paris  theatre  will  upset 
all  my  conclusions,  and  leave  only  these  facts,  which  I 
believe  are  acknowledged  on  all  hands,  that  the  costume  of 
the  French  stage  is  most  carefully  preserved  and  their 
declamation  unrivalled. 

'  Tuesday,  5,  P.  M.  The  day  and  the  hour  when  I  as- 
cended the  tower  of  the  cathedral  of  Strasburg  can  never 
be  forgotten  ;  but  as  to  describing  the  effect  of  such  an 
elevation  and  the  unrivalled  prospect,  it  is  wholly  out  of  the 


CATHEDRAL  AT  STRASBURG.  281 

reach  of  my  pen.  All  that  I  had  before  seen  and  read  of 
Gothic  architecture  had  given  me  no  idea  of  the  richness, 
the  grace,  the  variety,  and  the  extreme  lightness,  which  are 
all  combined  in  this  wonderful  structure.  It  is  the  glory  of 
Strasburg,  the  admiration  of  travellers,  and  sacred  to  the 
piety,  almost  an  honor  to  the  superstition,  which  erected  it. 
[Here  follows  a  description  which  is  omitted.] 

'  The  great  beauty  of  this  steeple  consists,  first,  in  its 
lightness.  As  it  is  built  of  a  very  hard  stone,  which  is  now 
the  color  of  rusty  iron,  the  stone-work  is  extremely  slender, 
and  cut  with  exquisite  delicacy,  and  strengthened  with  bars 
of  iron.  Secondly,  in  its  complete  preservation.  Nothing 
is  wanting  of  its  original  material  except  here  and  there  the 
corner  of  an  ornament  or  some  unessential,  minute  stone. 
Thirdly,  in  the  exquisite  variety  of  its  Gothic  decorations, 
windows,  and  side  turrets,  round  which  the  stone  stairs  wind 
in  a  graceful  spiral,  and  are  made  to  contribute  essentially 
to  the  beauty  of  the  structure.  Fourthly,  in  its  wonderful 
elevation.  When  you  have  reached  the  top,  you  have  some 
leisure  to  think  how  such  exquisitely  wrought  masses  of 
stone,  held  together  with  belts  and  clamps  of  iron,  could 
have  been  raised  to  such  a  height,  and  how  men  could  have 
worked  there  without  giddiness.' 

The  journal  contains,  on  the  next  page,  a  parallel 
between  French  and  English  character,  drawn  from 
his  detention  ten  days  in  a  French  German  city. 

'  It  is  impossible  to  spend  six  days  in  any  French  city 
without  discovering  something  of  the  difference  of  national 
character  between  them  and  their  neighbors  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Channel.  We  have  so  often  heard  of  the  char- 
acteristic liveliness  of  the  French,  that  no  traveller,  upon 
entering  their  country,  is  surprised  to  hear  them  continually 
talking,  and  that,  too,  with  the  greatest  earnestness,  accom- 
panied with  perpetual  gestures.  But  he  may  be  surprised 
24* 


282  FRENCH    AND    ENGLISH    CHARACTER. 

to  find  that  all  this  noise  and  earnestness  is,  in  general, 
about  the  veriest  trifles,  or  the  most  familiar  and  common 
topics.  The  course  of  a  Frenchman's  day  is  totally  unlike 
ours.  L''agrement  is  his  motto.  He  rises  rather  late,  and 
takes  his  coffee,  perhaps  a  single  cup,  and,  at  eleven,  he 
has  his  dejeune  of  a  chicken  and  a  bottle  of  vin  ordinaire. 
An  Englishman,  on  the  contrary,  eats  a  large  breakfast, 
and  is  busy  till  six,  and  then  his  dinner  fills  up  the  remainder 
of  the  hours.  A  Frenchman  wears  his  morning  gown 
through  the  whole  day ;  an  Englishman  esteems  it  a  matter 
of  conscience  to  be  neatly  and  politely  dressed  before  the 
hour  of  dinner.  A  Frenchman  will  hardly  fail  of  being  at 
the  spectacle  every  night  of  the  week  ;  this  habit  is  as  regular 
as  his  meals.  An  Englishman  will  scarcely  exceed  ten  or 
twelve  nights  in  a  season.  Their  food  is  also  as  different 
as  their  dispositions.  An  English  dinner  for  two  or  three 
persons  would  be  a  moderate  joint  of  meat  and  some  little 
second  course  ;  a  Frenchman  could  not  sit  down  to  less 
than  a  dozen  dishes  of  flesh,  fish,  and  fowl.  His  pottage  is 
invariably  the  first ;  then  an  ounce  or  two  of  beef,  com- 
pletely boiled  to  rags.  Then  he  breaks  his  bread,  and 
begins  upon  his  bottle  of  wine  ;  then  comes  fish,  after  that 
some  absurd  mixture  of  gizzards,  etc. ;  then  a  chicken, 
duck,  or  some  odd  wild  fowl,  a  trifle,  salad,  dessert,  etc. 
Yet,  with  all  this  rich  and  endless  variety,  they  are  neither 
gluttons  nor  epicures.  They  are  never  anticipating  nor  dis- 
cussing their  meals  ;  nor  do  they,  like  the  English,  sit  long 
at  table  to  drink  wine.  When  their  little  bottle  of  French 
wine  is  exhausted,  their  potations  are  finished.  A  French- 
man eats  what  is  set  before  him,  often  what  an  Englishman 
would  send  from  the  table  ;  though  more  simple,  he  is  more 
fastidious  in  his  food. 

'  The  manners  of  the  French,  in  public  and  in  private,  in 
social  intercourse,  are  all  marked  with  delicacy.  Vice,  in 
the  words  of  Mr.  Burke,  loses  half  its  evil  not  only  among 
the  great,  but  among  the  common  people,  by  losing  all  its 


FOREIGN    MANNERS.  283 

grossness.  This  remark  is  not  only  applicable  to  the  court 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  the  unfortunate,  but  to  the  public  man- 
ners of  the  French  themselves.  Every  thing  in  the  theatre 
and  the  street  weai's  the  exterior  of  good  manners  and  civil- 
ity. A  French  audience  is  never  impatient,  never  boisterous. 
Their  applauses  are  short ;  their  hisses  very  rare.  One  night, 
at  Strasburg,  the  play  broke  off  very  abruptly,  and  we  were 
disappointed  of  a  great  part  of  the  spectacle.  We  were 
amused,  however,  to  see  how  quietly  the  audience  took  it, 
when,  in  England,  the  whole  house  would  have  been  in  an 
uproar,  and  John  Bull  would  have  raved  with  all  the  privi- 
leges of  an  Englishman.' 

These  remarks  were  made  more  than  forty  3^ears 
ago,  and  when  the  writer  had  seen  of  French  cities 
only  Strasburg.  Another  extract  from  this  journal 
shows,  that  the  custom  of  calling  upon  authors  and 
celebrated  persons  had  not  then  become  so  common 
as  to  be  regarded  with  approbation. 

'  Professor  Schweighauser,  whose  Athenaeus  makes  one 
of  the  Strasburg  edition  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Classics, 
is  a  native  and  an  inhabitant  of  this  city,  and  is  now  an  old 
man.  A  bookseller  politely  offered  to  carry  me  to  see  him, 
upon  the  pretence  that  he  would  be  glad  to  see  an  American 
who  was  acquainted  with  his  edition  of  Athenseus ;  but  upon 
what  pretence  could  I  call  upon  him  ?  And  how  could  I 
presume  to  insult  him  with  my  imperfect  Latin  and  still 
worse  French,  the  only  languages  in  which  I  could  make 
him  understand  that  I  had  no  right  to  call  upon  him  ? 
So,  then,  I  shall  leave  Strasburg  without  seeing  Professor 
Schweighauser ! ' 

After  waiting  in  Strasburg  about  twelve  days,  they 
received  their  passports,  but  their  troubles  were  not 
yet  at  an  end. 


264  STRASBURG. 

'  At  the  first  post-house  beyond  Strasburg,  we  were  ac- 
costed by  four  gens  (Varmes^  who  demanded  our  passports. 
They  were  in  English,  according  to  an  improvident  custom 
of  the  American  Consul  at  Paris.  The  first  officer,  upon 
looking  at  them,  cried  out  "  Ma  foi,  je  ii'entends  pas  le 
Latin.''''  Another,  taking  them  out  of  his  hand,  declared  they 
were,  "  Hollandoise.''''  However,  upon  seeing  the  Paris  vise 
and  the  signature  of  Fouch  ^,  they  returned  them.  Just  as 
we  were  going  off,  they  came  back  with  a  paper,  which  con- 
tained a  list  of  names  for  which  they  were  commissioned 
to  inquire,  by  stopping  all  travellers  on  that  route.  They 
began  to  question  us  with  much  severity,  —  to  inquire  our 
names,  our  quality,  our  business,  our  route,  etc.  We  began 
to  be  much  alarmed,  especially  upon  my  overhearing  one 
of  them  say,  "  Ce  sont  tres  suspects.''''  After  searching  us 
and  our  baggage,  we  were  permitted  to  proceed.  They 
had  found  nothing  like  our  names  in  the  list  of  the  sus- 
pected, and  nothing  suspicious  in  our  baggage.' 

After  an  agreeable  tour  in  Switzerland,  the  travel- 
lers reached  Paris  in  October,  and  took  rooms  in  the 
Rue  Vivienne. 

'  Paris,  November  12th,  1806. 

'My  dear  Father,  —  I  hope  the  letters  that  I  have  ad- 
dressed to  you  from  different  places  on  the  Continent  have 
all  reached  you,  because  they  have  all  contained  some  favor- 
able statement  of  my  health  ;  and  I  am  happy  to  add,  that 
1  have  still  abundant  reason  for  believing  that  my  European 
sejour,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  will  terminate  in  the  perfect 

establishment  of  my  constitution I  have   found 

nothing  yet  in  Paris  which  will  make  me  leave  it  with 
regret.  Knowing  so  little  as  I  do  of  the  language,  I  have 
not  been  able  to  form  many  French  acquaintances ;  and  the 
American  families  live  in  a  remote  part  of  the  city  from 
me.  Except  that  I  have  made  some  valuable  and  cheap 
purchases  of  books,  I  consider  my  stay  here  as  time  almost 


IBIPRESSIONS    OF    PARIS.  285 

altogether  lost.  The  Emperor  is  absent  on  his  triumphant 
Prussian  campaign,  and  I  fear  I  shall  have  no  opportunity 
of  seeing  him. 

'  Last  Sunday,  I  attended  the  Te  Deum  at  the  church  of 
Notre- Dame,  which  was  performed  in  consequence  of  the 
victory  of  Jena.  The  concourse  of  people  was  immense. 
All  the  public  dignitaries  were  present  in  their  robes  of 
state.  The  splendor  of  the  costumes  and  equipages  about 
the  Emperor's  court  far  surpasses  any  other  prince  in 
Europe,  and  is  much  more  magnificent  than  under  the  Bour- 
bons. But  I  must  write  nothing  upon  politics,  since  a  pru- 
dent silence  is  the  order  of  the  day  all  over  this  colossal 
empire.  I  only  wish  I  could  let  my  friends  in  political  life 
in  America  know  how  painful,  how  mortifying,  how  dis- 
gusting, how  low,  how  infamous,  appear  the  animosities  and 
wicked  calumnies,  with  which  our  American  papers  are 
filled.  I  am  called  every  day  to  blush  for  the  state  of 
society  among  us,  and  attempt,  but  in  vain,  to  say  some- 
thing in  our  defence.  There  is  nothing  I  have  more  at 
heart  than  to  impress  upon  the  minds  of  my  countrymen 
the  grievous  injury  which  we  suffer  in  Europe  from  the 
complexion  of  our  newspapers,  and  the  brutality  of  our  party 
spirit,  the  infamy  of  our  political  disputes.  Of  what  advan- 
tage is  our  boasted  freedom,  if  it  is  only  consistent  with 
such  a  state  of  animosity  as  now  exists  in  New-England  ? 
I  am  every  day  called  to  deplore  the  picture  which  we 
present  to  the  eyes  of  Europe.  Eveiy  paper  that  comes 
from  the  United  States  brings  its  addition  to  the  load  of  our 
disgrace. 

'  It  is  impossible  to  be  out  of  employment  here,  where 
is  collected  almost  every  thing  that  is  rare,  beautiful,  or 
valuable.  I  have  begun  to  take  a  few  lessons  in  French, 
in  order  to  familiarize  myself  to  the  idiom  and  the  pro- 
nunciation, that  I  may  not  be  an  utter  stranger  in  the  com- 
pany of  Frenchmen. 

'  I  have  spent  the  last  six   days  at  the  country-seat  of  a 


286  GEN.  LA  FAYETTE. 

gentleman,  where  I  have  rode  on  horseback  every  day ;  and 
my  sisters  would  have  laughed  to  have  seen  me  in  the  field 
with  five  or  six  other  gentlemen,  followed  by  hounds,  chasing 
a  hare.  There  I  enjoyed  for  two  days  the  company  of  Gen. 
La  Fayette,  whose  name,  you  know,  is  dear  to  America.  It 
is  impossible  to  conceive  of  a  man  of  more  amiable  man- 
ners, or  in  whose  conversation  one  could  take  more  deliglit. 
He  is  extravagantly  attached  to  every  thing  American,  and 
full  of  interesting  anecdotes  of  the  revolution  in  our  country 
and  in  France.  My  fire  is  out,  and,  as  wood  is  fifteen 
dollars  a  cord  in  Finance,  I  dare  not  make  any  more.  O, 
may  He  who  has  hitherto  watched  over  me  bring  about, 
in  His  good  providence,  such  a  termination  of  my  tour  as 
to  restore  my  health,  and  bring  me  to  you,  to  my  sisters, 
my  friends,  and  parish,  in  the  course  of  another  six  months ! ' 

To  Mrs.  Lyman  :  — 

'  Paris,  November  12th,  1806. 

'My  dear  Madam,  —  When  I  sit  down  to  write  a  letter 
to  Boston,  the  multitude  of  friends  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
quite  overwhelms  me,  and  I  hardly  know  to  whom  to  direct 
my  lines ;  but  1  feel  more  at  liberty  in  addressing  myself 
to  you  than  to  an)^  one,  because,  as  I  have  no  reason  to 
expect  a  return  to  my  letters,  I  know  you  will  not  blame 
me  for  want  of  punctuality.  Francis  and  I  have  visited 
together  some  of  the  most  delightful  spots  in  the  old  world. 
You  know  he  has  an  eye  continually  open  to  the  charms 
of  nature,  and  that  his  taste  has  been  much  cultivated  by 
the  attention  he  has  always  paid  to  the  fine  arts  ;  he  has 
imparted  to  me  infinite  pleasure  by  his  conversation.  I 
have  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  has  arrived  safely  in 
Finsbury  Square,  where  I  hope  to  meet  him  before  the  first 
of  January. 

'  You,  I  know,  will  not  expect  me  to  say  much  of  Paris, 
for  the  very  reason  because  there  is  so  much  to  be  said. 
In  vishing  the  apartments  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress,  in 


«  FRENCH    LADIES.  287 

the  Tuilleries,  I  wished  twenty  times  that  you  could  have 
been  with  me,  to  have  admired  the  exquisite  taste  of  the 
furniture,  the  splendor  of  the  decorations,  and  the  perfec- 
tion which  the  Parisians  have  attained  in  all  the  furniture 
and  arts  of  living.  As  I  am  acquainted  with  very  little 
exclusively  French  society,  I  draw  my  ideas  of  French 
fashions  not  perhaps  from  original  sources,  but  from  the 
families  of  Messrs.  Bowdoin,  Parker,  and  Hottinguer. 
Their  dinners  are  models  of  ease  and  elegance.  The 
company  is  seated  promiscuously,  the  servants  numerous, 
the  wines  light  and  agreeable,  the  time  spent  at  meals 
always  moderate,  the  gentlemen  rising  with  the  ladies. 

'  A  French  family,  you  know,  cannot  live  without  com- 
pany. An  evening  spent  at  home  with  one's  husband  and 
children  would  be  terribly  ennuyeux ;  of  course,  the  spec- 
tacle., or  a  party,  is  always  at  hand  to  fill  up  the  evening. 
Domestic  education,  I  presume,  is  almost  unknown  in  Paris. 
I  am  extremely  charmed  with  the  general  appearance  of 
French  ladies.  It  is  true,  their  faces  are  by  no  means  as 
handsome  as  you  will  see  among  the  English  and  Ameri- 
cans, but  their  persons,  their  air,  their  tout  e7isemble,  is  truly 
admirable  and  fascinating.  The  lowest  wench  in  a  French 
kitchen  dresses  with  more  taste  than  many  English  and 
(you  will  pardon  me)  American  ladies.  Whether  it  is  the 
continual  contemplation  of  the  finest  works  of  ancient 
genius  that  gives  them  this  power  of  decoration,  and  of 
producing  beautiful  effect,  or  whether  their  forms  are  really 
better  than  ours,  I  know  not ;  but  it  is  only  necessary  to 
take  a  tour  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  to  be  satisfied  of  the 
superior  elegance  of  the  women  of  all  ranks. 

'  The  grand  theatre  here,  where  arc  played  the  first-rate 
plays  of  Racine,  Corneille,  and  Moliere,  is,  in  my  opinion, 
the  purest  school  of  morals  to  be  found  in  Paris,  excepting, 
perhaps,  the  Protestant  Church.  I  attend  it  once  or  twice 
a  week,  and  return  more  satisfied  than  from  any  other  place 
of  amusement  in  Paris.     But  alas !  I  feel  that  in  this  city 


288  IxMPRESSIONS    OF    PARIS. 

I  am  not  where  I  ought  to  be,  and  I  sigh  for  America, 
for  New  England,  for  my  people  and  friends.  How  glad  I 
am  that  none  of  my  female  friends  were  born  here,  although 
I  wish  they  could  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  a  visit !  I  know 
none  who  would  enjoy  it  more  than  you,  and  S.,  and  Mr. 

Lyman,  but •  you  will  never  come  ;  and  I  pray  God 

I  may  be  able,  before  the  end  of  six  months,  to  communi- 
cate to  you  a  little  of  what  I  have  collected  worthy  of  your 

ear 

'  You  will  think  this  a  strange  letter,  but,  from  such  a 
city  as  Paris,  what  shall  I  write  ?  About  the  Tuilleries  and 
the  Louvre  ?  It  would  take  a  quire  of  paper.  About  the 
Venus  de  Medicis  and  the  Apollo?  What,  —  that  they 
are  very  pretty  statues  ?  Precious  information  !  and  you 
would  put  me  down  for  a  coxcomb.  In  the  midst  of  Paris, 
my  desires  turn  towards  Boston.  This  single  confession  is 
a  sufficient  answer  to  all  aflectionate  inquiries,  and  proves 
me,  as  ever,  your  affectionate  faithful  servant, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

'  Paris,  December  7th,  1806. 

'  My  dear  Sisters,  —  I  will  begin  this  page  with  tenderly 
recollecting  you  and  the  little  ones,  —  you,  the  careful  guar- 
dians, they,  the  docile  objects  of  your  love  and  care.  It  is 
painful  beyond  expression  to  be  so  shut  out  from  communi- 
cation with  you.  I  sincerely  hope  you  have  not  suffered  so 
much  from  ignorance  of  your  brother's  welfare.  I  have 
written  every  month,  if  my  letters  have  only  arrived  in 
season  to  relieve  your  anxiety.  If  I  only  knew  what  you 
would  be  most  pleased  with,  I  could  procure  you  here  a 
thousand  little  conveniences,  at  a  much  cheaper  rate  than 
they  are  to  be  procured  in  America  ;  but  alas  !  I  know  not 
your  wishes  nor  your  wants.  I  am  doubtful  whether  letters 
written  in  English  will  be  permitted  to  pass.  In  this  state 
of  uncertainty,  I  have  wished  a  thousand  times  that  you 
understood  French,  that  I  might  address  my  letters  to  you 


EDUCATION    OF    YOUNG    LADIES.  .    289 

in  that  language,  which  is,  in  fact,  the  only  one  understood 

all  over  the  world.     Would  it  not  be  woi'th  your  while,  my 

dear  sisters,  to  apply  yourselves  a  little  to  it,  to  ascertain 

whether  you  made  sufficient  progress  to  encourage  you  to 

proceed,  and,  by  the   help  of   a   grammar  and   dictionary, 

and  afterwards  without,  to  enter  on  some  easy  author,  such 

as   Florian   and   Marmontel,  and  afterwards  upon  the  vast 

stores   of  pleasant  reading    with    which    French  literature 

abounds  ?     The  system  of  education  here,  for  young  ladies, 

is   extremely   rigid.     Under  the  age  of   twenty,  and  even 

till  marriage,  they  are  confined  very  much  at  home.     They 

are   never   suffered  to   visit,   and  rarely  to  go  out  without 

their  mothers  or  instructors.     The  strictest  attention  is  paid 

to  the  decency  of  their  manners.     Their  education  is  rigid, 

though  perhaps  trivial  and  superficial.     Not  a  day   passes 

of  which  two  or  three  hours  are  not  devoted  to  the  piano,  to 

the  drawing-master,  the  dancing-master,  and  perhaps  Italian, 

English,  or  German.     It  is  only  after  marriage  that  young 

women  are  free.     They  are  married  without  their  choice, 

I  had  almost  said  without  their  knowledge  :    of  course,  the 

last  persons  they  are  solicitous  to  please  are  their  husbands. 

Each    partner    has    separate    pleasures    and    pursuits.     A 

French  lady  never  grows  old.     It  is   indeed  astonishing  to 

find    how   long   they    retain    their   vivacity ;    and    there    is 

nothing  to  betray  their  age,  for  their  complexions,  thanks  to 

the  perfection    to  which  they   have   brought  the   cosmetic 

art,  are  the  sams  at  every  period  of  life.     I  hope,  my  dear 

sisters,  you  will  always  remain  young  without  the  help  of 

paint,  and  full  of  vivacity  without  being  indebted  for  it  to 

the  happy  climate  of  France,  but  to  the  combined  influences 

of  good   sense,  benevolence   ever   active,   and    piety   ever 

grateful  and  ever  resigned.     When,  when  shall  I  have  the 

happiness  to  receive  a  letter  from  you  ?     But  I  will  not  be 

uneasy.     The   Atlantic  of  three   thousand    miles  separates 

us,  it  is  true ;    but  what  is  that  to  the  eye  of  Providence  ? 

A  line,  a  point 

25 


290  LIFE    IN    PARIS. 

'  I  am  not  sufficiently  charmed  with  Paris  to  make  me 
happy  here.  It  is  a  place,  1  think,  with  which  no  man  can 
be  enraptured  who  is  not  wilhng  to  seek  for  pleasure  be- 
yond the  limits  of  strict  evangelical  morality.  But  still 
there  is  enough  to  employ  every  moment  of  a  literary  man's 
hours ;  and  if  I  wished  to  devote  myself  to  any  science 
except  those  connected  with  theology,  there  is  no  place  on 
the  face  of  the  globe  that  presents  such  varied  and  rich 
facilities. 

'  Forgive  the  emptiness  of  this  letter.  Take  care  of  papa, 
and  may  God  keep  you  all  to  embrace  once  more  your  dear 
brother!  J.  S.  B.' 

'  Paris,  December  19,  1806. 

'  My  Dear  Sisters,  —  This  day  is,  without  exception,  the 
most  delightful  that  I  have  enjoyed  since  I  left  Boston.  I 
am  in  ecstasies ;  my  hand  trembles  with  joy  and  gratitude. 
I  have  just  received  a  large  packet  of  letters  from  America, 
the  first  since  the  beginning  of  October.  O,  my  dear  sis- 
ters, how  exquisite  is  the  happiness  of  hearing  from  home  ! 
I  forget  that  I  am  in  Paris  ;  your  letters  have  transported  me 
to  America,  to  Portsmouth,  to  our  own  fireside  !  When 
shall  I  hear  again .'  God  be  thanked  tliat  these  have 
reached  me,  and  that  they  do  not  contain  a  single  article 
distressing,  or  even  unpleasant. 

'You  will  no  doubt  be  surprised  tliat  I  have  remained 
so  long  in  Paris.  I  am  as  much  surprised  at  it  as  your- 
selves. I  have  my  passport  now  in  my  pocket,  and  wait 
impatiently  to  get  away.  You  will  ere  this  have  seen  the 
decree  of  the  Emperor,  which  renders  all  intercourse  be- 
tween the  Continent  and  England  almost  wholly  impracti- 
cable. Still,  however,  I  hope  I  have  not  been  uselessly 
employed  here.  In  the  first  place,  1  have  every  reason 
to  believe  that  my  health  is  every  day  reestablishing  itself. 
I  hope  to  return  to  you  and  my  dear  father,  if  not  entirely 
cured,  at  least  much    ameliorated.     But  of  the   former  I 


EMPLOYMENT    IN    PARIS.  291 

have  many  reasons  to  hope,  even  confidently.  I  trust  I 
shall  be  able  to  be  more  useful,  more  industrious,  and  more 
interested  in  the  great  cause  of  truth  and  piety,  than  ever, — 
that  I  shall  be  a  more  devoted,  I  cannot  be  a  more  affec- 
tionate, brother.  But  this  remains  a  secret  in  the  will  of 
Heaven,  and  why  should  I  be  anxious  to  explore  it  ?  '  Even 
if  Europe  should  be  destined  to  receive  my  bones,  and 
strangers  to  close  my  dying  eyes,  is  there  not  another  coun- 
try in  which  no  good  man  will  be  a  stranger  ?  Yes,  there 
is.  And  let  me  beg  of  you,  my  beloved  sisters,  to  remem- 
ber, that  it  is  the  region  to  which  all  our  hopes  and  fears, 
our  pursuits,  our  inquiries,  and  our  meditations,  should  con- 
tinually tend,  or,  at  least,  from  which  we  should  never  be 
estranged,  and  to  which  we  should  never  even  for  a  moment 
be  indifferent.  May  God  form  you  both  to  rational  and  en- 
lightened faith  in  his  religion,  and  to  an  habitual  love  of 
all  its  duties.  I  hope  you  have  received  a  work  which  I 
requested  might  be  sent  to  you  from  Boston,  written  by  that 
excellent  woman,  Mrs.  Hamilton 

'  My  principal  employment  here  has  been  collecting 
books.  VVoi-ks  in  theology  may  be  bought  for  a  trifle,  and 
1  have  gone  to  the  full  extent  of  my  resources  in  collecting 
a  very  large  library.  I  wish  you  read  Fi'ench.  I  could 
provide  you  here  a  little  library  at  a  cheap  rate,  which 
would  be  an  endless  source  of  pleasure  to  you,  when  your 
cares  are  less  than  at  present,  and  you  will  have  culivated, 
I  hope,  that  taste  for  reading,  which  will  be  to  you  of  infi- 
nitely more  value  than  jewels  and  riches  inexhaustible. 

'  1  should  have  reaped  much  greater  pleasure  from  my 
long  sejour  in  this  city,  if,  in  the  first  place,  there  were  any 
Protestant  church,  which  I  could  have  frequented  with  satis- 
faction, and,  in  the  next  place,  if  I  understood  the  language 
sufficiently  to  take  ^pleasure  in  French  society.  Without 
this  accomplishment,  Paris  must  be  in  some  measure  dull 
to  any  person  who  is  not  willing  to  relieve  his  ennui  by 
rushing  into  scenes   of  guilty  amusement.     The    Theatre 


292  LIFE    IN    PARIS. 

Franirais  is  certainly  an  exception,  and  perhaps  the  best 
school  of  morals,  as  well  as  the  best  means  of  learning  a 
correct  pronunciation  of  the  language,  in  Paris.  I  have 
been  there  two  or  three  evenings  every  week,  and  consider 
it  time  well  spent. 

'  Mr.  Bowdoin's  family  has  become  almost  indispensable 
to  me.  Judge  Tudor's  is  very  agreeable.  They  have  a 
little  company  every  Monday  evening,  among  whom  are 
to  be  found  most  of  the  Americans  here.  I  find  entertain- 
ment of  a  still  higher  class  in  the  company  of  Count  Rum- 
ford,  and  of  those  whom  I  meet  at  his  house.  He  has  a 
weekly  meeting  of  the  members  of  the  Institute,  and  his 
wife,  the  widow  of  the  famous  Lavoisier,  is  able  to  bear  a 
part  in  the  most  scientific  discussions.  I  must  refer  you  to 
the  letters  I  shall  send  to  some  of  my  friends  in  Boston, 
which  contain  a  few  of  the  impressions  which  this  city  has 
made  upon  my  mind. 

'  1  have  received  my  mother''s  hair  with  the  greatest 
pleasure.  As  to  the  portrait,  I  am  afraid  1  shall  not  answer 
your  request ;  at  any  rate,  I  hope  I  shall  not  have  time  to 
have  it  executed  in  Paris 

'  I  add  only  a  few  words,  that  I  am  pleased  at  any  thing 
which  looks  like  literary  taste  or  curiosity  in  your  letters. 
Although  I  am  aware  that  both  my  sisters  are  immersed 
in  cares  for  their  father  and  the  younger  ones,  yet  I  am 
gratified  to  perceive  in  your  letters  that  your  minds  are 
continually  ripening  and  improving.  Your  sex  have  always 
been  famous  for  their  epistolary  excellence,  Madame  de 
Sevigne  in  France,  and  Lady  Montagu  in  England,  have 
left  the  finest  specimens  in  this  kind  of  writing.  Perhaps 
Cowper,  however,  has  redeemed  the  inferiority  of  our  sex 
in  this  respect.  But  the  first  requisite  in  letter-writing  is  a 
most  accurate  orthography.  Elegant  eIRusions  of  sentiment 
will  not  compensate  a  defect  in  spelling  in  the  eyes  of  a 
person  who  sees  the  original.  In  the  next  place,  a  gram- 
matical, and,  lastly,  an  easy  and  perspicuous,  construction 


LETTER    TO    MR.    LYMAN.  293 

of  sentences,  is  indispensable.  Let  me  recommend  to  your 
perusal  Blair's  large  work  on  Rhetoric  and  Belles  Lettres. 
I  shall  devote  the  next  pages  to  the  little  ones. 

'  Farewell,  my  dear  sisters.  I  love  you  more  and  more 
the  farther  I  am  from  you,  and  the  longer  I  am  absent. 
Your  dear  brother,  J.  S.  B.' 

To  Mr.  Lyman  :  — 

'  Paris,  January  2cl,  1807. 

'My  dear  Benefactor  and  Friend,  —  My  father  tells 
me,  in  a  letter  dated  some  time  in  August,  which  I  received 
about  a  week  ago,  that  you  appeared  somewhat  surprised 
at  not  having  received  any  letter  from  me.  If  I  had  thought 
that  my  neglect  of  writing  would  have  appeared  to  you  an 
indication  of  my  having  lost  any  portion  of  that  love  and 
respect  which  I  have  ever  felt  for  you,  I  should  not  have 
been  guilty  of  so  much  inconsiderateness,  which  I  fear  you 
have  felt  as  a  kind  of  ingratitude.  But  really,  my  dear 
Sir,  as  I  had  never  been  in  the  habit  of  corresponding  with 
you,  I  was  a  little  doubtful  whether  you  would  now  expect 
it  from  me  ;  and  if  I  have  failed  in  duty,  I  can  never  fail  in 
affection.  I  hope  Mrs.  Lyman  has  received  all  the  letters 
I  have  addressed  to  her,  and  that  you  both  have  seen  those 
I  have  addressed  to  Shaw  and  Walter,  If  you  have  not 
been  made  perfectly  acquainted  with  every  thing  that  I  have 
written  to  America,  it  was  because  my  correspondents  were 
ignorant  of  the  perfect  confidence,  affection,  and  regard  I 
have  always  cherished  towards  you.  Forgive  me,  I  pray 
you,  if  I  have  not  fulfilled  what  you  expected  from  me,  and 
let  me  know  that  you  have  received  this  letter,  and  have 
pardoned  me. 

'  I  have  not  heard,  in  any  of  my  letters  from  Boston,  that 
Theodore  has  entered  college  this  year.  I  hope  you  will 
not  allow  him  to  cherish  any  thing  like  indifference  for  a 
liberal  education.  I  have  the  greatest  hopes  from  him. 
Give  my  love  to  him  and  to  George.  O,  may  they  never 
25* 


294  RETURN    TO    ENGLAND. 

be  corrupted,  —  never  lose  those  qualities  which  have  made 
them  so  many  friends,  and  so  dear  to  me  !  Tell  them  that 
they  must  not  forget  him,  who  hopes  to  have  the  happiness 
of  seeing  the  fruit  of  some  of  those  early  instructions  which 
it  was  always  his  pleasure,  and  he  trusts  will  be  his  honor, 
to  have  given  them. 

'  A  few  words  for  Mrs.  L.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
passing  an  evening  with  Helen  Maria  Williams.  She  has 
a  literary  coterie  every  Sunday  evening.  She  is  now  rather 
advanced  in  years,  and  certainly  homely,  but  a  very  inter- 
esting woman.  Madame  de  Genlis  lives  in  Paris,  not  very 
much  respected.  Her  works,  however,  still  pass  through 
many  editions,  and  when  the  Bourbons  again  are  in  power, 
her  turn  will  come,  as  she  educated  some  of  the  members 
of  that  family.  Madame  D'Arblay  resides  here  also.  I 
have  some  hopes  of  being  introduced  to  her.  She  is  a 
novelist  who  has  lived  her  own  romances,  as  she  is  said  to 
have  made  a  most  imprudent  marriage  for  love,  and  is  in 
very  low  circumstances.  Madame  de  Stael  has  been  long 
since  banished  from  Paris,  on  account  of  the  freedom  of  the 
literary  and  political  conversations  she  was  in  the  habit  of 
holding  at  her  evening  parties  of  men  of  letters,  —  a  kind 
of  club  which  the  Emperor  did  not  choose  to  tolerate.  So 
much  for  literary  ladies. 

'  Do  not  let  the  present  state  of  political  affairs  in  Europe 
weigh  too  much  upon  your  mind.  I  have  no  right  to  ask 
you  for  a  few  lines,  but  I  have  a  right  to  say  how  grateful 
they  would  be. 

'  Yours,  with  every  sentiment  of  affection, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

'  Plymouth,  Feb.  15th,  1807. 

'  My  dear  Father,  —  I  commence  a  letter  at  this  place  ; 
perhaps  it  will  be  finished  in  London.  At  length  I  have 
escaped  from  France,  —  that  land  of  delays,  vexations, 
police,  and  passports,  —  and  am  safely  landed  on  British 


JOURNEY    THROUGH    BRITTANY.  295 

ground,  where  I  feel  at  ease,  secure,  and  comfortable.  It 
is  now  three  months  since  I  began  to  look  out  for  an  oppor- 
tunity of  coming  over,  and  just  as  I  was  upon  the  point  of 
concluding  to  leave  Paris  for  Holland,  the  imperial  decree 
came  out  interdicting  every  species  of  communication  with 
the  British  Isles.  This  decree  is  executed  with  peculiar 
rigor  in  Holland,  so  that  my  hopes  from  that  quarter  were 
cut  off,  and  I  was  unwilling  to  undertake  so  long  a  journey 
as  from  Paris  to  Rotterdam  with  prospects  so  unsafe.  About 
the  middle  of  November,  I  heard  that  Mr.  Charles  Williams, 
of  Boston,  was  at  Cherbourg ;  that  he  was  going  round  to 
Treguier,  a  little  port  on  the  coast  of  Brittany,  to  take  in  a 
cargo  of  wheat,  and  that  he  would  go  immediately  to  some 
part  of  England.  I  wrote  to  him  on  the  subject  of  taking 
Pvlr.  Thacher  and  myself  as  passengers.  To  this  he  most 
obligingly  consented  ;  and  I  accordingly  took  out  passports 
at  the  police,  to  embai'k  at  Treguier  for  the  United  States. 
These  passports  I  have  carried  in  my  pocket  more  than 
three  months.  Mr.  Williams  was  detained  six  weeks  at 
Cherbourg.  At  last  we  heard  of  his  sailing,  and  were 
expecting  every  day  to  be  informed  of  his  arrival  at 
Treguier,  upon  which  we  were  immediately  to  set  out 
from  Paris.  On  his  passage  round,  he  was  taken  by  a 
privateer  and  carried  into  Guernsey.  Hearing  nothing 
from  him  for  a  fortnight,  we  gave  him  up  as  lost  or  taken, 
and  resigned  ourselves  to  the  expectation  of  remaining 
in  France  for  an  indefinite  period.  At  length,  however, 
about  the  beginning  of  February,  we  wei'e  informed  of  his 
arrival  at  Treguier,  and  that  we  must  be  there  as  soon  as 
possible. 

'  After  spending  eight  days  in  traversing  the  vilest  roads 
through  the  most  barbarous  country  of  France,  filled  and 
traversed  about  three  years  since  with  Chouans  and  brig- 
ands, we  arrived  at  the  little  port  just  in  season  to  get  on 
board  the  vessel.  In  about  thirty  hours,  we  set  our  feet  on 
the  opposite  shore.  I  shall  set  off  for  London  to-morrow, 
and  hope  to  reach  it  in  five  days. 


296  JOTTRNEY    THROUGH    BRITTANY. 

'  In  all  this  arrangement  of  my  circumstances,  through 
the  whole  of  this  last  winter,  I  think  I  see  the  hand  of  the 
kindest  Providence.  Much  against  my  will,  I  was  detained 
in  a  mild  climate  through  the  severe  months,  by  which  my 
health  has  been  restored.  I  have  been  reserved  for  the 
most  favorable  opportunity  in  the  world  for  getting  over  at 
last  in  the  vessel  of  a  friend,  where  I  could  be  perfectly  at 
home,  without  inconvenience  and  without  expense  ;  and,  to 
crown  the  whole,  the  most  favorable  gales  have  wafted  us 
to  England  in  the  shortest  time. 

'  The  season  is  astonishingly  mild.  The  whole  countiy 
round  Plymouth  is  covered  with  verdure,  and,  through  the 
whole  of  the  part  of  France  which  I  ti'aversed,  the  buds 
were  swelling  and  the  grass  growing.  I  cannot  but  con- 
sider it  also  a  great  favor,  that,  in  travelling  in  the  diligence 
through  Brittany,  where  the  people  are  extremely  barbarous, 
clad  in  goat-skins,  and  speaking  a  barbarous  language,  I 
should  every  where  on  the  road  have  met  with  the  most 
obliging  and  attentive  Frenchmen,  who  did  every  thing  to 
facilitate  our  journey,  and  whom,  if  I  should  ever  meet 
them  in  America,  I  shall  rejoice  to  embrace  as  friends  and 
brothers.     My  health  continues  uninterrupted.     Adieu.' 

There  is  recorded  in  the  notice  of  this  rapid  jour- 
ney to  Treguier  a  singular  incident  of  the  romance 
of  real  life,  that  seems  stranger  than  the  romance  of 
fiction. 

'  There  travelled  with  us,'  he  remarks,  '  in  the  diligence, 
an  ugly  Frenchman.  Some  of  the  company  said  he  was 
hastening  on  to  Rennes,  to  take  possession  of  the  estate  of 
a  brother  who  had  lately  died  in  the  absence  of  his  wife  ; 
and  it  was  supposed  she  had  not  heard  of  the  death  of  her 
husband,  and  that  she  would  lose  all  her  little  estate.  As 
we  were  sitting  around  the  fire  in  the  kitchen  of  the  inn, 
relating  these  circumstances,  an  aged  and  sorrowful  woman 
appeared  to  listen  attentively.     Upon  inquiry,  we  found  that 


GKIEF    AT    THE    DEATH    OF    MR.    WALTER.  297 

it  was  the  widow,  hastening  on  to  her  husband,  with  whom 
she  had  been  reconciled,  but  ignorant  till  that  moment  of 
his  death.  She  was  without  means  of  pursuing  her  journey 
with  sufficient  rapidity  to  reach  Rennes  as  soon  as  the 
brother-in-law.  The  passengers  of  the  diligence  made  up 
a  sum,  and  engaged  the  landlord  of  the  inn  to  send  her 
immediately  on  her  way.  God  grant  she  may  reach  home 
in  time  to  prevent  the  fraud  of  the  brother.' 

Another  interesting  circumstance  is  mentioned  in 
the  record  of  this  journey.  A  company  of  soldiers,  a 
portion  of  the  coast  guard,  were  travelling  this  same 
road  through  Brittany.  The  captain,  with  his  wife, 
accompanied  them  in  the  diligence.  The  difficulty 
of  speaking  the  language,  and  the  barbarous  state  of 
the  country,  rendered  it  hard  for  these  two  young 
men  of  a  peaceful  profession  to  make  themselves  un- 
derstood. The  captain's  wife,  however,  took  them 
under  her  especial  protection,  foraged  for  thgm,  and 
proved  in  this  instance  the  often  repeated  assertion 
of  the  quick  understanding  and  prompt  kindness  of 
woman. 

Another  letter  to  his  father  resumes  the  corres- 
pondence. 

'  London,  Feb.  22d,  1807. 

'  I  have  arrived  in  London  to  meet  with  the  saddest 
reverse.  I  have  just  heard  of  the  death  of  my  dear  friend 
Walter !  O,  my  dear  Sir,  you  cannot  know  how  much  I 
loved  him !  I  never  knew  till  now  what  it  was  to  lose  so 
dear,  so  excellent  a  friend.  I  have  been  writing  letters  of 
consolation  to  some  of  my  afflicted  people,  and  now  I  want 
it  myself.  My  dear,  aged  friend,  Deacon  Storer,  too !  Ah, 
a  great  chasm  is  made  in  the  precious  circle  of  my  attach- 
ments. God  preserve  you  and  my  dear  sisters  !  But  alas  ! 
I  tremble  at  every  letter  which  arrives,  lest  it  should  tell 
of  the  loss  of  some  friend.     I  hope  to  be  able  to  preserve 


298 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


my  health  and  the  equanimity  of  my  spirits  by  the  aid  of 
our  blessed  reUgion  ;  but  this  shock  is  dreadful.  I  never 
felt  such  grief  before.  Your  letters  tell  me  of  another 
dreadful  fii'e  in  Portsmouth.  I  hope  the  loss  of  fortune  will 
teach  them  how  foolish  it  is  to  love  money  extravagantly, 
—  ah,  and  even  to  love  any  thing  on  earth  extravagantly. 
But  my  friend  Walter  is  no  longer  on  earth ;  he  is  in 
heaven  ! 

'  I  pray  you  be  careful  of  your  cold.  Thank  my  dear 
sisters  for  their  letters.  When  I  feel  more  at  ease,  I  shall 
write  more  at  length. 

'  Your  dear  son, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

'London,  March  llth,  1807. 

'  Mv  DEAR  Sisters,  —  Do  not  you  and  my  dear  father  be 
too  much  distressed  to  hear  that  I  have  had  an  ill  turn, 
after  an  interval  of  nearly  half  a  year.  It  was  slight,  very 
slight,  and  I  am  satisfied  that  it  arose  from  something  I  had 
eaten 

'  The  time  that  I  spent  upon  the  Continent  has  passed 
like  a  tale  that  is  told.  It  was  extremely  agreeable,  except 
that  I  was  always  uncertain  of  any  means  of  returning  to 
England.  I  travelled  through  France  towards  the  sea-coast 
during  the  carnival  week,  and  you  would  think  the  whole 
nation  had  run  mad.  In  the  little  villages,  the  peasants, 
from  the  oldest  to  the  youngest,  are  collected,  and  every 
species  of  foolery  and  absurdity  is  going  on. 

'  You  cannot  know  how  much  I  have  suffered  by  hearing 
of  the  death  of  so  many  friends  during  my  absence.  I 
hope,  my  dear  sisters,  you  will  never  be  called  to  such 
heavy  trials.  People  will  tell  us  that  we  are  young  enough 
to  make  new  friends;  —  a  most  impertinent  species  of  con- 
solation. Can  the  new  ever  take  the  place  of  the  old  ?  We 
may  indeed  form  new  attachments,  but  we  cannot  knit 
them  to  the  old;  — the  void  remains,  and  the  heart  bleeds. 
Give  my  sincerest  regards  to  the  Storer  family.  I  loved 
their  father  dearly,  and  I  know  that  he  was  more  attached 


CORRESPOJMDENCE.  299 

to  me  than  age  commonly  is  to  youth.  I  have  written  to 
Madam  S.,  but  she  is  a  pious  woman,  and  does  not  need 
my  consolation  or  advice.  1  have  also  written  to  two  other 
of  my  parishioners,  who  have  been  most  severely  afflicted 
by  the  loss  of  children  ;  —  I  mean  Mrs.  H.  G.  Otis  and  Judge 
Sullivan 

'  I  have  often  thought,  my  dear  sisters,  how  happy  you 
and  I  are,  in  having  been  born  of  pious  and  sensible 
parents,  descended  from  excellent  ancestors,  educated  in 
rather  an  humble  condition  of  life,  and  drawn  into  the 
world  and  its  notice,  instead  of  being  pushed  out  prema- 
turely. The  consequence  of  this,  I  hope,  will  be,  that  our 
manners,  our  understandings,  and  our  hearts  will  be  gradu- 
ally improving  as  long  as  we  live  ;  and  as  we  love  one 
another  the  more  the  older  we  grow,  so  we  may  at  the 
same  time  be  solicitous  to  render  ourselves  each  the  more 
worthy  of  the  other,  and  of  that  beloved  parent  whose  affec- 
tion, solicitude,  and  loveliness  has  ever  been  impressed  upon 
my  heart,  and  who,  I  have  fondly  hoped,  has  been  permitted 
to  watch  over  her  children. 

'Have  you  read  any  of  Paley's  works,  —  his  Natural 
Theology,  Moral  Philosophy,  Evidences,  etc. .''  I  think  you 
will  find  his  Natural  Theology  particularly  interesting.  The 
world  has  talked  too  long  about  books  for  ladies  ;  you  ought 
to  read  fundamentally  the  same  books  with  the  other  sex. 
I  look  forward  with  anxious  and  increasing  oleasure  to  the 
hour  of  returning  to  you,  and  imparting  to  you  the  added 
knowledge  it  has  been  my  good  fortune,  rather  than  my 
desert,  to  obtain  beyond  you.  I  shall  try  to  procure  a  few 
elementary  books,  which  shall  be  of  use  to  my  little  sisters 
and  brother. 

'  Since  I  wrote  to  papa,  I  have  preached  at  the  Old  Jewry 
for  Dr.  Rees,  and  have  brought  upon  myself  a  great  many 
solicitations,  which  I  resist  manfully.  1  have  just  come 
from  seeing  an  old  gentleman  at  Hackney,  who  has  been 
a  preacher  there  thirty-five  years,  —  Mr.  Samuel  Palmer,  a 
particular  friend  of  Orton,  and  editor  of  his  life  and  letters. 


300  VIEWS  OF  HIS  STATE  OF  HEALTH. 

I  believe  I  sliall  be  obliged  to  give  him  a  discourse.  But  I 
have  been  induced  to  preach  not  so  much  to  assist  my 
friends,  I  acknowledge,  as  to  keep  up  a  kind  of  familiarity 
with  the  pulpit,  that  I  may  not  return  raw  and  awkward. 
As  far  as  1  have  been  able  to  observe,  —  and  I  have  attended 
upon  almost  every  variety  of  preaching  in  London, —  the 
discourses  here  are  very  far  inferior  to  those  we  usually 
hear  in  New  England. 

'  God  preserve  you,  my  dear  sisters  !  Ah,  I  little  thought, 
when  I  besought  my  dear  friend  Walter  to  be  thankful  for 
my  preservation,  I  should  so  soon  lament  his  departure  in 
the  bloom  of  life  and  hopes !    Adieu.    Your  dear  brother, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

To  his  father  :  — 

'  London,  May  5th,  1807. 

'  Mr  DEAR  Sir,  —  A  year  has  nearly  elapsed  since  I  gave 
you  my  last  look  at  Portsmouth  ;  —  a  year  full  of  variety, 
and  perhaps  not  entirely  destitute  of  profit.  A  few  weeks 
more,  and  my  exile  is  at  an  end.  As  I  draw  near  the  term 
of  my  absence,  my  mind  is  torn  by  a  thousand  contrary 
emotions.  I  wish  to  escape  from  London,  for  I  have  re- 
ceived the  most  unbounded,  and  it  seems  to  me  the  most 
unmerited,  as  it  is  the  most  unexpected,  kindness  from 
every  person  to  whom  I  have  been  introduced  ;  and  I  am 
making  friends  here,  whom  I  shall  leave  with  increased 
regret  if  I  remain  longer.  I  wish  upon  my  return  to  be 
perfectly  unembarrassed,  that  I  may  enjoy  the  undivided 
happiness  of  embracing  you  in  America.  If  the  malady 
with  which  it  has  pleased  God  to  try  me  should  not  entirely 
disappear,  I  hope  that  I  shall  be  able,  by  his  grace,  so  to 
discipline  my  mind  as  to  prepare  it  for  any  consequences  of 
such  disorder;  —  consequences,  indeed,  which  I- anticipate 
with  anguish  of  soul,  but  which  I  think  I  could  bear  without 
guilty  complaint.  If  I  should  be  obliged  to  relinquish,  at 
some  future,  I  hope  far  distant,  day,  the  care  of  my  people, 
this  would  be  the  severest  blow  of  all.  But  even  this  would 
be  relieved  by  the  consideration  that  the  greatest  good  is 


CORRESPONDENCE.  301 

commonly  done  in  youth,  and  by  young  preachers,  when 
the  attachment  of  the  society  is  fi'csh,  and  the  zeal  of  the 
pastor  most  active.  Do  not  think,  from  the  strain  of  this 
letter,  (which  I  have  unconsciously  run  into,)  that  my  com- 
plaints return.  No  ;  thank  God,  I  have  reason  to  believe 
they  will  afflict  me  less  and  less,  and  that  my  voyage  and 
residence  on  the  Continent  will  contribute  essentially  to  my 
restoration  ;  but  I  wish  to  show  you  that  the  most  dreadful 
consequences  of  my  malady  are  familiar,  as  they  ought  to 
be,  to  my  thoughts,  and  that  no  presumptuous  expectations 
of  fame,  or  of  long  life,  ever  for  a  moment  make  me 
insensible  to  the  perpetual  lesson  of  humility  with  which 
God  has  visited  me. 

'  When  I  think  of  the  numerous  distressing  events  which 
have  taken  place  among  my  acquaintance  during  my 
absence,  I  bless  God  that  the  force  of  them  is  in  some 
measure  diminished  by  distance, 

'  I  am  obliged  to  delay  setting  off  for  Scotland  at  present, 
for  all  the  horses  are  taken  up  in  electioneering,  and  the 
whole  kingdom  is  in  a  ferment.  I  intend  if  possible  to  be 
in  Edinburgh  during  the  sitting  of  the  General  Assembly 
of  the  Kirk  of  Scotland,  which,  you  know,  is  one  of  the 
most  famous  ecclesiastical  courts  in  the  world.  I  do  not 
at  present  expect  to  be  able  to  visit  the  Highlands,  but 
shall  go  from  Edinburgh  to  Glasgow,  thence  cross  over 
to  Ireland,  proceed  to  Dublin,  and,  upon  our  return,  take 
South  Wales,  &c.,  &c.,  to  Oxford,  on  our  way  back  to 
London. 

'  This  may  be  the  last  letter  I  shall  write  from  this 
side  of  the  water,  as  I  shall  embark  immediately  upon 
my  return  from  this  tour.  My  love  to  my  dear  sisters  and 
brother.     Remember  me  to  the  aged  saints  at  York. 

'  Your  dear  son, 

'  J.  S.  B.' 

26 


CHAPTER    XV. 

MR.  BUCKMINSTER's  RETURN  TO  BOSTON. INCREASED  AR- 
DOR IN  HIS  STUDIES.  —  FRIENDSHIP  AND  ATTACHMENT  TO 
MR.    WALTER.  —  GRIEF    AT    HIS    DEATH. 

1807.  On    the    10th    of   September,    1807,    my 

Aged  23.  brother  returned  to  Boston.  The  extracts 
from  his  letters  to  his  family  during  his  absence  have 
been  presented  in  one  connected  series,  not  so  much 
for  the  importance  of  the  subjects  they  touch  upon, 
or  for  their  intrinsic  value,  but  as  they  display  his 
personal  feelings  and  his  strong  attachment  to  domes- 
tic associations.  There  is  in  them  no  pride  of  learn- 
ing or  of  intellect.  The  simplicity  and  openness  of 
his  intercourse  with  his  friends  was  perhaps  the  most 
marked  trait  of  his  character,  and  exposed  him  some- 
times, with  those  who  did  not  know  of  the  entire 
fidelity  of  his  manners  to  his  inward  impressions,  to 
the  charge  of  too  great  frankness,  or  a  violation  of 
conventional  forms. 

The  enchantments  of  the  French  capital  could  not 
wean  him  from  the  hourly  memory  of  those  he 
had  left  at  home.  Devoted  as  he  was  to  theological 
studies,  and  to  the  pursuits  immedjately  connected 
with  his  profession,  he  felt  that  the  time  was  lost 
which  did  not  aid  him  in  increasing  the  one  or  in 
promoting  the  other.     So  deep  was  his  sense  of  the 

duty  of  preserving  his  religious  feelings  fresh  and  un- 


RETURN    TO    BOSTON.  303 

impaired,  that  he  was  sparing  of  indulgence  even  in 
the  most  innocent  amusements  of  Paris,  lest  they 
should  impair  the  delicacy  of  his  moral  perceptions; 
yet  never  was  there  a  person  more  free  from  osten- 
tatious observances,  or  who  regarded  with  deeper 
aversion  an  ascetical  and  morose  morality. 

At  the  time  he  visited  England,  there  had  been  a 
long  interval  of  interrupted  intercourse  with  this 
country,  and  he  was  provided  with  very  few  letters 
of  introduction  ;  yet  his  circle  of  acquaintance  soon 
became  large,  and  was  increasing  among  the  digni- 
taries of  the  Established  Church,  as  well  as  with 
Dissenters.  He  excited  interest  by  the  freshness  and 
naivete  of  his  character.  There  was  something  about 
him  that  arrested  the  attention  of  strangers,  and  this 
attention  quickly  ripened  into  friendship. 

Friends  sprang  up  wherever  he  went.  In  the  hold 
of  the  Dutch  hoy,  the  conversation  in  broken  Latin, 
through  the  hours  of  a  sleepless  night,  so  riveted 
the  attention  of  the  worthy  Swiss  pastor,  that  he 
addressed  Latin  letters  to  him  after  his  return  ;  and, 
in  the  half-civilized  country  of  Bdttany,  filled  with 
Chouans,  and  people  scarcely  removed  a  step  from 
barbarism,  he  perpetually  called  forth  the  courtesy 
and  kindness  of  men  whom  he  was  willing  to  regard 
as  brothers. 

He  had  gained  so  much  vigor  that  he  entered  with 
new  and  ardent  hopes  of  increased  usefulness  into 
every  field  of  duty.  He  seemed  to  feel  that  his 
parish  had  new  and  double  claims  upon  him,  and 
that  to  all  their  previous  demands  was  now  added 
a  debt  of  fervent  gratitude.     The  sermon  which  he 


304  SEKMON  ON  HIS  KETURN. 

preached,  the    Sabbath  after  his  return,  was  closed 
with  the  following  words  :  — 

'  I  see,  my  friends,  that  your  expectations  are  increased, 
and  I  feel  that  your  just  claims  upon  my  future  exertions 
are  also  increased.  I  see  that  I  have  lost  many  apologies 
which  I  could  once  command  ;  apologies  for  occasional 
indolence,  and  excuses  for  a  thousand  professional  defi- 
ciencies, with  which  the  feebleness  of  our  powers,  or  the 
frailty  of  our  natures,  is  not  unfrequently  chargeable.  It  is 
now  too  plain,  since  you  cannot  grow  more  indulgent  to 
me,  I  must  become  less  so  to  myself.  I  see,  too,  that,  in 
addition  to  the  ordinary  duties  of  a  pastor,  —  duties  which 
he  cannot  in  any  case  fail  to  discharge,  without  the  most 
criminal  unfaithfulness  to  his  people,  his  Saviour,  and  his 
God,  —  I  have  now  a  large  debt  of  gratitude  to  repay.  And 
do  I  say  this  is  burdensome  }  God  forbid  !  No,  my  friends. 
It  shall  incite,  if  it  cannot  strengthen,  my  exertions,  and  a 
thousand  labors,  at  which  my  former  weakness  might  have 
murmured,  shall  now  become  imperceptibly  light  and  cheer- 
ful as  Gratitude  herself.  If  it  had  pleased  God  to  grant  me 
a  greater  confidence  than  I  have  been  able  to  bring  home  of 
the  confirmation  of  my  health,  our  joy,  I  think,  would  have 
been  full.  But  now,  even  now,  I  trust  we  shall  have  no 
reason  to  regret  on  my  part  this  temporary  relaxation.  I 
know  that,  on  yours,  there  has  been  no  failure  of  regular 
religious  instruction,  and  that  your  own  candor  .has  left  to 
you  nothing  but  kind  anxiety  for  me,  and  to  me  nothing 
but  obligation  and  gratitude.  Far  hence,  then,  every 
inauspicious  suggestion  about  futurity  !  "  My  grace,"  says 
Jesus  to  the  drooping  Apostle,  "  my  grace  is  sufficient 
for  thee."  May  I  not,  then,  like  Paul,  thank  God  and  take 
courage  ?  ' 

In  the  words  of  another, — 

'  He  was  welcomed  by  his  society  with  unabated  affection 
and  regard.     But  no  praise   ever   seduced  him  to  intermit 


RENEWED    LABORS.  305 

his  diligence.  His  books  gave  him  an  inexhaustible  source 
of  interest  and  delight ;  and  as  he  was  unavoidably  exposed 
to  frequent  interruptions  during  the  day,  his  studies  were  pro- 
tracted till  midnight  with  fatal  constancy.  In  the  inquiries 
peculiar  ifo  his  profession  he  took  increasing  pleasure,  and 
he  has  more  than  once  told  me,  that  he  was  fast  losing  his 
taste  for  all  other  studies.  In  order  that  this  all-absorbing 
interest  in  theology  should  not  wholly  destroy  his  relish  for 
elegant  letters,  which  he  justly  considered  as  a  valuable 
auxiliary  to  his  ministerial  influence,  he  continued  to  lend 
his  aid,  as  has  been  mentioned  previously  to  his  voyage,  to 
the  Monthly  Anthology,  and  to  all  the  publications  of  the 
day.'  * 

His  activity  was  now  incessant.  He  gave  his  aid  — 
not  only  his  aid,  but  his  most  precious  hours  —  to 
every  object  of  public  utility,  to  every  literary  and 
benevolent  institution.  These  incessant  calls  made 
deep  inroads  upon  the  time  that  he  would  gladly 
have  given  to  study,  to  the  pursuits  he  loved  best ; 
and  he  was  compelled  to  redeem  the  hours  from 
those  which  should  have  been  given  to  repose  or  to 
exercise.  At  this  time  his  studies  were  regidarly 
protracted  till  after  the  midnight  hour,  and  followed, 
but  not  till  a  few  years  later,  with  the  feverish  and 
restless  night. 

The  sermons  which  he  wrote  during  the  two  years 
after  his  visit  to  Europe  were  perhaps  superior  to  any 
that  he  ever  wrote  ;  they  showed  that  his  spiritual 
growth  had  been  rapid,  that  the  roots  had  struck 
deeper,  and  that  the  fruits  enjoyed  a  serener  and 
fresher  atmosphere. 

His  sermons   were  usually  written   late  at  night, 

*  Thacher's  Memoir. 
26* 


306  HABITS    OF    COMPOSITION. 

sometimes  even  protracted  into  the  small  hours  of 
the  morning.  A  note  from  the  Hon.  James  Savage 
confirms  this  statement. 

'  It  was  his  habit,  as  you  know,  to  give  more  labor 
to  the  preparation  of  his  sermons  than  his  slender 
health  would  justify  ;  at  least,  his  diligence  on  Sat- 
urday night  was  so  long  protracted,  that,  during  one 
winter,  I  often  called  in  after  ten  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing, to  afford  a  brief  interruption.  He  would  usually 
break  off  from  his  sermon,  and  rejoice  in  the  opportu- 
nity ;  but  he  was  sometimes  so  absorbed  in  his  work 
as  to  desire  me  to  permit  him  to  continue,  without 
change  of  posture,  and  to  begin  my  cigar  alone,  wait- 
ing some  half  hour  for  him  to  unite  in  the  indul- 
gence. After  I  learned,  however,  from  his  sister,  that 
to  finish  his  discourse  was  the  employment  of  the 
last  minutes  before  the  bell  rang  for  church  on  Sun- 
day morning,  that  course  was  abandoned.' 

These  sermons,  that  were  committed  to  paper  so 
late,  had  been  meditated  much  during  the  week. 
His  sister  always  knew  when  he  was  meditating  his 
sermon,  and  did  not  interrupt  him,  although  the 
breakfast  or  supper  were  wholly  untasted.  But  when 
it  was  over  and  the  sermon  preached,  the  exhilaration 
of  his  spirits  was  almost  childlike.  The  gentleman 
already  quoted,  Mr.  Savage,  says,  in  his  note:  —  'My 
memory  associates  him  with  every  thing  gentle  and 
cheerful  in  the  intercourse  between  us  alone,  and, 
when  more  were  present,  he  deferred  to  them,  and 
was  never  willing  to  occupy  so  much  of  the  time  as 
all  desired  him  to  appropriate.  Some  of  the  parish- 
ioners, perhaps  not  more  than  three  or  four,  met  at 
his  study  Sunday  evenings,  after  the  fatigue  of  his 


DEATH    OF    BIR.    WALTER.  307 

services  required  relaxation,  and  there  he  seemed 
truly  in  his  element,  when  contributing  to  the  re- 
freshment of  his  guests  at  the  slight  supper,  and  still 
more  after  its  close,  and  perfectly  rested,  he  could 
take  a  larger  share  in  the  conversation.' 

There  was  indeed  a  circumstance  which  deeply 
affected  him,  and  deducted  largely  from  his  happiness 
upon  his  return  to  Boston.  This  was  the  death  of 
his  friend,  Arthur  Maynard  Walter.  The  reader  may 
remember  the  strong  expressions  of  his  grief  in  his 
last  letter  to  his  father  upon  hearing  the  sudden  and 
appalling  news  of  his  death.  To  this  his  father 
answers  by  the  next  letter :  —  'I  anticipated  the 
shock  which  the  news  of  the  death  of  your  friend 
would  give  you ;  but  from  your  chirography  and 
expressions,  I  believe  it  was  more  severe  than  it 
ought  to  have  been ;  and  was  perhaps  more  unex- 
pected than  any  thing  ought  to  be  in  this  world  of 
uncertainty  and  death.  We  should  always  reflect 
that  our  friends  are  mortal,  and  that  we  know  not 
what  a  day  may  bring  forth  ;  we  should  form  our 
friendships  and  connections  under  this  impression, 
and  enjoy  and  improve  them  accordingly.' 

Walter  seems  to  have  been  the  dearest  and  most 
intimate  of  his  friends.  His  character  was  such  as 
to  inspire  a  warm  attachment  in  a  large  circle.  He 
was  some  years  older  than  my  brother,  and  two 
years  before  him  in  college  ;  and  was  one  of  those 
who  noticed  and  encouraged  his  younger  associate, 
and  perhaps  was  ready  to  protect  him  from  the  incon- 
veniences to  which  his  small  stature  and  youthful 
appearance  might  have  exposed  him.  He  was  repaid 
with  warm  gratitude  and  enduring  attachment.     His 


308  LAST    LETTER    OF    MR.   WALTER. 

death  also  was  the  first  deep  wound  of  the  affections 
which  my  brother  had  ever  received, — at  an  age, 
too,  when  the  heart  is  most  susceptible  of  the  tender- 
ness of  friendship.  A  philosopher  asks,  '  Can  an- 
other be  so  blessed,  and  we  so  pure,  that  we  can  offer 
him  tenderness  ? '  Such  seems  to  have  been  the  feel- 
ing of  these  friends  to  each  other;  and  as  neither  of 
them  was  absorbed  by  ties  of  a  more  selfish  nature, 
God  seems  to  have  given  them  each  to  the  other. 

The  last  letter  that  Walter  wrote  was  to  his  friend, 
in  anticipation  of  his  return  ;  and,  as  it  presents  many 
characteristics,  a  part  of  it  is  here  inserted. 

'Noveml>er,  ISOfi. 

'  My  dear  Friend,  —  By  our  calculations,  you  will  have 
reached  London,  after  your  jaunt  on  the  Continent,  before 
this  can  arrive  in  England.  I  hope  you  have  been  spirit- 
ualized amid  the  scenery  of  Switzerland  ;  I  know  you  must 
have  been  enchanted  with  the  situation  and  fertility  of 
France  and  Brabant.  I  hope  you  are  now  beginning 
seriously  to  think  of  recrossing  the  Atlantic,  and  settling 
for  life  among  those  whom  you  love.  In  my  solitary 
moments,  I  sometimes  dwell  on  tlie  comparative  pleasures 
of  London  and  Paris,  and  on  the  singular  movements  which 
the  mind  experiences  among  various  nations,  severally  and 
strangely  distinguished  by  customs,  manners,  laws,  and 
modes  of  faith.  All  these  feelings  and  pleasures,  caused 
and  adorned  by  novelty  or  mystery,  have,  in  America, 
attracted  my  mind  at  different  times  towards  the  nations 
of  Europe,  and  Duty  has  exercised  her  strong  dictates  to 
prevent  their  powerful  and  effectual  operation.  But  I 
acquire  submission,  if  not  contentment ;  and  when  I  wish  I 
were  in  London  or  Paris,  I  consider  that  I  ought  to  remain 
where  I  am.  These  bursts  of  romance  and  regret  you  will 
experience  after  your  return  ;  but  your  principles  of  religion 


LETTER  UPON  THE  DEATH  OF  MR.  "WALTER.     309 

will  give  you  perfect  tranquillity.  Yet,  indeed,  I  hope  to 
visit  Europe  again,  but  I  shall  not  do  it  till  I  am  perfectly 
able  in  every  respect.  I  love  to  keep  my  mind  quiet,  and 
yet  in  a  little  state  of  agitation  to  prevent  drowsiness  or  too 
great  relaxation.  I  have  missed  you  very  much,  and  still 
feel  your  absence,  as  having  taken  a  large  sum  from  the 
amount  of  my  happiness  ;  but  I  have  Adam  Smith's  con- 
stituents of  felicity,  health,  a  good  conscience,  and  am  in 
no  man's  debt ;  and  as  there  is  a  great  deal  of  affectation 
in  complaint,  I  do  not  mean  to  be  guilty  of  such  folly ;  for 
I  can  truly  say  I  am  quite  happy.  I  have  eveiy  reason  to 
be  contented.    I  hope,  also,  I  am  not  ungrateful  to  the  Giver 

of  every  good  and  eveiy  perfect  gift 

'  The  Anthology  Club  is  large  enough.  I  hate  large 
associations,  —  there  is  no  mingling  of  mind  in  great  com- 
panies. 1  beg  that  you  will  return  pretty  soon,  and  take 
your  place  among  us.  I  don't  know  whether  I  told  you  of 
my  having  found  a  fine  cigar  in  your  room,  which  I  smoked 
to  your  health  and  happiness ;  but  I  want  to  smoke  another 
with  you  in  your  study.     I  love  the  tales  of  old  times. 

'  Yours, 

'  A.  M.  Walter.' 

When  his  friend  received  this  letter,  the  warm 
heart  of  the  writer  had  ceased  to  beat.  The  follow- 
ing letter  will  show  with  what  grief  the  event  was 
regarded  by  the  bereaved  wanderer. 

'  London,  January  22tl,  1807. 

'  O,  MY  DEAR  Friend!*  —  My  heart  is  full  of  anguish! 
Mr.  Thacher  has  just  handed  me  his  brother's  letter,  which 
informs  us  of  Walter's  death.  Walter  dead !  I  cannot 
believe  it !  I  cannot  believe  it !  The  transition  of  my 
mind  fi-om  the  highest  delight  to  the  greatest  distress  is 
too  violent  to   be   realized  at  present.     I  had  just  arrived 

*  To  William  S.  Shaw,  Esq. 


310  LETTER    UPON    THE    DEATH    OF    MR.    WALTER. 

in  London,  delighted  with  having  escaped  at  last  from 
France,  and  burning  with  impatience  to  open  my  letters 
from  America ;  and,  in  this  state  of  excitement,  I  am  told 
Walter  is  dead  !  O,  dear,  dear  Walter !  Have  I  lost  you 
for  ever  ?  Alas  !  I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  of  the  weakness 
of  my  faith !  When  I  left  you  all  to  come  to  Europe,  the 
parting  was  indeed  painful,  but  continually  relieved  by  the 
belief  that  I  should  see  you  all  again,  after  some  time  of 
absence.  I  ought  to  feel  that  it  is  the  same  thing  now  with 
respect  to  Walter,  —  that  I  shall  see  him  again,  the  absence 
only  a  little  lengthened.  The  voyage  of  my  own  life  will 
not  be  long,  and  we  shall  meet  again !  Last  May,  I  took 
leave  of  him  for  a  year  only.  I  could  not  anticipate  that 
our  separation  would  be  so  much  prolonged ;  but  now  I  feel 
that  I  ought  to  have  been  prepared  for  it.  Dear  Walter ! 
I  suspect  the  last  letter  he  ever  wrote  was  addressed  to  me. 
Alas  !  I  cannot  read  it  without  tears.  I  have  been  writing 
to  him  by  every  opportunity.  Ah,  they  are  letters  which 
he  will  never  read  !  My  dear  Shaw,  how  I  wish  I  were 
with  you,  to  give  vent  to  my  sorrow  !  T  cannot  do  it  on 
paper.  It  is  a  cold,  idle,  slow  method  ;  and  instead  of 
relieving,  it  oppresses  me.  I  look  to  the  great  promises  and 
expectations  which  the  Gospel  holds  out ;  —  they  tell  me  I 
shall  meet  him  again  in  a  world  more  worthy  of  his  noble, 
pure,  pious  heart  than  this,  if  I  should  ever  be  worthy  to 
reach  that  world  myself.  But  the  great  duty  now  is  to  resign 
ourselves  to  this  heavy  loss,  till  we  meet  him  again.  Even 
Jesus  wept  at  the  tomb  of  Lazarus,  though  he  knew  that  his 
power  could  restore  him  again  to  life.  "  Behold,  how  he 
loved  him  !  "  said  the  Jews.     We  surely  may  weep.    Alas  ! 

we  may  go  to  him,  but  he  cannot  return  to  us  ! 

'  My  friend,  I  can  write  no  more  at  present.  I  shall 
endeavor  to  busy  myself  about  your  commissions,*  and 
dissipate  a  little  the  heavy  cloud  which  hangs  over  my  mind. 

*  Purchasing  books  for  the  Athenaeum. 


CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSHIP.  311 

O,  my  friend,  how  much  is  subtracted  from  our  hopes  of 
future  enjoyment !  The  recollection  of  Walter,  whenever 
it  occurs  in  writing,  or  in  conversation  about  America,  or 
in  my  solitary  reveries  about  futui'e  pleasures  and  past 
friendships,  really  oppresses  me. 

"  Quis  desiderio  sit  pudor  aut  modus 
Tam  carl  capitis  ?"  ' 

111  the  sermon  which  he  wrote  upon  Christian 
friendship,  from  the  example  of  Jesns  and  John, 
printed  in  the  second  vohime  of  his  works,  Walter 
seems  to  have  been  in  his  mind  throughout.  An  ex- 
tract from  this  sermon  follows  :  — 

'  It  is  said  that  friendship  is  nowhere  recommended  to 
us  in  the  New  Testament.  True,  it  is  not ;  and  here,  I 
think,  isa  singular  proof  of  the  thorough  knowledge  which 
our  Saviour  possessed  of  the  human  heart,  and  especially 
of  the  virtuous  affections.  For  is  it  not  easy  to  see  that  it 
would  have  been  absurd  to  enjoin  particular  friendships 
upon  any  man,  as  a  necessary  part  of  his  Christian  or 
moral  character  ?  That  which  is  peculiar  to  this  attach- 
ment, as  it  is  distinguished  from  general  good-will,  is  not 
a  thing  which  depends  on  a  man's  voluntary  exertions.  No 
man  can  go  out  into  the  world  and  say,  "  I  will  have  a 
friend."  This,  like  other  connections  in  life,  depends  upon 
circumstances  beyond  our  control.  It  depends,  not  merely 
upon  a  man's  generous  benevolence  of  character,  but  upon 
a  fortunate  consent  of  affections,  and  harmony  of  interests, 
which  a  man  may  live  long  in  the  world  and  not  be  so 
happy  as  to  meet.  It  requires  such  a  concert  of  tastes 
and  passions,  such  a  length  and  frequency  of  intercourse, 
such  a  candor  and  unreservedness  of  mind,  as  we  may  not 
easily  find  in  thousands  whom  we  yet  greatly  esteem,  and 
in  many  more  with  whom  we  are  disposed  to  live  on  the 
common  terms  of  peace  and  good  neighborhood.     To  have 


312  CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSHIP. 

enjoined,  then,  a  social  attachment  like  this,  as  a  subject  of 
duty,  or  as  an  essential  obligation  on  every  man,  whatever 
may  be  his  circumstances,  is  an  absurdity  of  which  Jesus 
and  his  disciples  could  not  have  been  guilty  ;  and  yet  this 
omission  has  been  charged  upon  the  friend  of  John  and 
Lazarus,  as  a  defect  in  his  religion.  Many,  I  doubt  not, 
are  the  Christians  who  have  passed  through  this  world  of 
frequent  changes  and  various  characters,  and  yet  have 
never  chanced  to  meet  a  real  friend.  Many  more  are 
there  who  have  wept  over  the  grave  of  one  long  known 
and  loved  ;  but  alas  !  as  they  have  not  the  power  to  awake 
him  from  his  slumbers,  so  too  they  have  not  been  so  for- 
tunate as  ever  afterwards  to  replace  him. 

'  If,  my  friends,  we  would  practise  this  virtue  (if  it  must 
be  so  named)  in  all  its  purity,  and  enjoy  our  fondest  attach- 
ments in  perfection,  we  must  call  in  to  our  aid  the  religion 
of  Christ.  Tell  us  not  of  the  heroic  friendships  of  ancient 
story,  when  it  was  thought  generous  to  sacrifice  a  whole 
nation  for  an  injury  to  a  friend,  and  when  the  duties  of  this 
attachment  were  exalted  above  all  other  obligations,  and 
allowed  to  break  every  other  tie,  and  benevolence  itself 
was  lost  in  the  despotism  of  private  love.  Tell  us  not  of 
those  modern  connections,  which  demand  of  us  in  honor 
to  sacrifice  one  man's  life  to  vindicate  another's  from  false 
imputations  ;  or  of  the  numerous  pitiful  unions  of  wicked 
men  for  purposes  of  interest  or  indulgence,  of  conviviality 
or  temporary  convenience.  These  have  as  little  to  do 
with  aflection  as  with  religion.  True  Christian  regard  is 
as  different  from  all  this  as  lust  from  pure  love,  or  bodily 
strength  from  real  courage.  The  only  perfect  union  of 
minds  is  that  which  is  animated,  corrected,  and  matured 
by  the  evangelical  spirit  of  Christianity.  Why  ?  Because 
their  faith  and  hopes  are  not  only  one  through  their  present 
destiny,  but  because  man  has  interests  and  hopes  in  eternit)'' 
dearer  and  greater  than  any  tennporal  well-being ;  and  that 
union  of  minds  into  which  eternity  enters  not,  and  makes 


CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSniP.  313 

no  part  of  their  common  hopes,  must  be  essentially  defective  ; 
because  this  idea,  rendering  the  affectioa  which  it  influences 
more  sublime  and  more  animating,  must  make  it  superior  to 
any  temporary  union  of  views  and  purposes,  how  many  years 
soever  may  have  cemented  it.  You  anticipate  the  company 
of  your  friend  to-morrow;  the  Christian  not  to-morrow  only, 
but  for  ever. 

'  Farther.  The  essential  temper  of  Christianity  is  self- 
distrust  ;  and  it  is  the  very  charm  of  friendship  to  love  to 
repose  on  another's  knowledge  and  affection.  The  greatest 
foe  of  grace  is  pride  ;  pride  also  cannot  coexist  with  gene- 
rous, undisguised,  unqualified  affection It  is  also 

the  tendency  of  our  religion  to  exhaust  those  sources  of 
jealousy  and  distrust  which  so  often  embitter  our  tenderest 
and  dearest  connections.  A  Christian,  knowing  his  own 
infirmities,  will  not  expect  too  much,  even  from  him  he 
loves  best.  He  has  none  of  that  pride  that  takes  offence  at 
fancied  neglects ;  and  he  sees  the  folly  and  the  sin  of 
requiring  from  another  such  an  illiberal  attachment  to 
himself  as  shall  confine  all  his  friend's  sacrifices  to  himself 
and  exclude  the  rest  of  the  world  from  his  attention.  It 
therefore  appears  to  me,  that,  to  make  friendship  perfect, 
Christianity  was  necessary ;  because  this  alone  teaches  us 
the  sinfulness  of  wishing  for  such  a  monopoly  of  affection 
as  is  demanded  by  some  narrow  minds,  and  is  so  contrary 
to  the  genius  of  the  Gospel 

'  In  fine,  where  the  affection  between  two  minds  is  not 
influenced  by  a  sense  of  a  present  and  all-gracious  Father 
in  heaven  ;  where  they  have  no  communion  of  mind  upon 
the  most  interesting  of  human  contemplations,  God,  Jesus, 
and  the  life  to  come  ;  where  the  tomb,  when  it  has  closed 
upon  one  of  them,  is  thought  to  have  separated  them  for 
ever ;  where  the  all-sanctifying  grace  of  the  Gospel  docs 
not  mould  their  desires,  correct  and  unite  their  dispositions 
in  humility  and  Christian  love,  —  there  may  be  fondness, 
there  may  be  momentaiy  satisfaction,  there  may  be  par- 
27 


314  CHRISTIAN    FRIENDSHIP. 

tiality,  but  there  is  no  friendship,  such  as  existed  between 
Jesus  and  John;: — such,  in  fact,  as  that  for  which  Jesus 
prayed,  when  he  said,  "  Holy  Father,  keep,  through  thine 
own  name,  those  whom  thou  hast  given  me,  that  they  may 
be  one  as  we  are." 

'  My  Christian  friends,  if  you  have  found  one  who  leans 
on  your  breast,  and  you  are  not  afraid  that  he  should  listen 
to  the  secrets  ihat  disturb  it ;  if  wisdom  and  virtue  have 
directed  you  to  him  ;  if  ardent  love  of  truth,  generous  ac- 
commodation to  each  other,  fear  of  God,  attachment  to  the 
Gospel  of  Jesus,  and  hope  of  evei'lasting  life,  have  bound 
you  together, —  O,  cherish  such  a  vmion  of  minds!  The 
grace  of  Jesus  Christ  will  temper  every  desire  of  your 
hearts,  and  mellow  your  affections  by  the  gentle  influence 
of  his  Gospel ;  your  interests  will  more  closely  intertwine 
as  you  draw  nearer  to  the  grave,  and  become  more  detached 
from  the  surrounding  distractions  of  the  world  ;  and  the 
tomb,  when  it  closes  upon  you,  shall  not  separate  you ;  for, 
as  God  is  true,  "  them  that  sleep  with  Jesus  will  God  bring 
with  him."  Jesus,  who  once  raised  a  friend  from  the  tomb, 
will  not  let  it  close  for  ever  on  those  who  love  him,  and 
who  love  like  him.' 

Three  years  after,  when  my  brother  pronotinced 
the  oration  before  the  Society  of  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa, 
Walter  was  fresh  in  his  memory.  There  are  some, 
perhaps,  who  can  remember  the  fervent  and  chastened 
emotion  with  which  he  pronounced  these  words :  — 

'  Do  you  want  examples  of  learned  Christians  ?  I  could 
not  recount  them  in  an  age.    'You  need  not  be  told  that 

"  Learning  has  borne  such  fruits,  in  other  days, 
On  all  her  branches  ;  piety  has  found 
Friends  in  the  friends  of  science  ;  and  true  prayer 
Has  flowed  from  lips  wet  with  Castalian  dews."  * 

*  Cowper's  Task. 


TRIBUTE-   TO    THE    MEMORY    OF    MR.    WALTER.  315 

'  Yes,  it  has  !  We  have  known  and  loved  such  men, 
and,  thank  God  !  have  been  loved  by  them.  There  is  now 
present  to  my  mind  the  image  of  a  scholar,  whom  some 
of  you  knew  (for  he  was  one  of  us)  ;  and  those  who  knew 
him  well  will  say  with  me,  he  was  as  pure  a  spirit  as 
ever  tasted  the  dews  of  Castalia.  How  would  Walter  have 
delighted  in  this  anniversary!  He  would  have  heard  me! 
—  me,  who  am  now  left  to  speak  of  him  only,  and  ask  for 
him  the  tribute,  the  passing  tribute  of  your  grateful  recol- 
lection !  He  would  have  heard  me  !  It  may  be  that  he 
hears  me  now,  and  is  pleased  with  this  tribute. 

"  Manibus  date  liHa  plenis  ; 
Purpureos  spargam  flores  animamque  amici 
His  saltern  accumulem  donis,  et  fungar  inani 
Munere.'"* 

There  are  other  tributes  to  the  memory  of  Walter 
scattered  throughout  his  papers.  Indeed,  if  the  time 
were  pointed  out  when  he  appeared  most  happy,  most 
worthy  of  admiration,  most  radiant  with  all  the  riches 
of  his  nature,  it  was  in  the  intimate  intercourse  with 
friends.  Then  was  his  fine  countenance  inspired 
with  thoughts  and  emotions  that  needed  no  restraint; 
he  poured  out  the  riches  of  his  imagination,  and  the 
hoarded  treasures  of  thought,  softened  by  the  tender- 
ness and  perfect  reliance  of  friendship.  He  had  in  an 
eminent  degree  the  childlike  character  of  genius ; 
his  naivete  was  understood  only  by  those  who  re- 
garded him   with   the  partiality  of  friendship.     His 

*  ^n.,  Lib.  VI. 

'  Bring  fragrant  flowers,  the  whitest  lilies  bring, 
With  all  the  purple  beauties  of  the  spring  ; 
On  the  dear  youth,  to  please  his  shade  below, 
This  unavailing  gift,  at  least,  I  maj'  bestow  ! ' 

Drydtii  and  Pitt 


316  FRIENDS    OF    BXJCKMINSTER. 

countenance  and  manner  reflected  with  the  utmost 
fidelity  his  transient  and  passing  feelings.  He  would 
be  suddenly  stopped  in  the  midst  of  an  animated 
conversation  by  a  formal  or  affected  truism;  he  would 
shrink  into  himself  and  silence,  at  the  envious  or 
malignant  remarks  of  a  selfish  person ;  he  felt  de- 
pressed in  the  presence  of  bigotry  or  hypocrisy. 
How  necessary  was  it  for  such  a  nature  to  be  pro- 
His  lively  sympathy,  when  another  or  himself  had 
tected  by  the  disinterested  attachment  of  friendship  ! 
given  pleasure  by  an  intellectual  effort,  was  often 
mistaken  for  vanity  by  those  who  did  not  understand 
the  peculiar  simplicity  of  his  character.  He  would 
listen  with  as  much  pleasure  to  the  commendation  of 
his  friends  after  any  arduous  public  exhibition,  or  after 
an  effort  where  much  had  been  expected  of  him,  as 
though  it  were  the  first  he  had  ever  made.  Reflect- 
ing, as  he  must  always  have  done,  upon  the  certain, 
and  almost  at  any  time  possible,  infinence  of  his  well- 
known  malady,  he  trembled  lest  his  friends  should 
discern  a  confirmation  of  his  own  ever- whispering 
warnings  in  any  of  his  public  exhibitions,  and  there- 
fore listened  with  anxious  delight  to  their  honest 
praises.  He  threw  himself,  as  it  were,  upon  the  sin- 
cerity and  tenderness  of  friendsrhip,  to  guard  his 
reputation,  and  to  inform  him  of  the  first  shadow  that 
could  dim  its  lustre.  Never  was  confidence  in  friends 
met  with  a  more  generous  return.  I  could  scarcely 
enumerate  those  who  loved  him  while  living,  and 
honored  his  memory  with  their  tears  and  their  eu- 
logy. Among  the  foremost  were  Thacher,  Kirkland, 
Savage,  Norton,  Lowell,  Eliot ;  and,  of  those  who 
were  younger,  to  whom  he  looked  forward  himself 


DR.    KIKKLAND.  317 

as  friends  of  his  maturer  life,  —  Ticknor,  Everett, 
Palfrey, — it  might  almost  have  been  said  of  them, 
as  of  a  bereaved  father  at  the  loss  of  his  son,  that  they 
would  not  exchange  their  dead  friend  for  others' 
living  ones. 

Perhaps  the  friend  who  shared  the  most  of  his  con- 
fidence, after  his  return  from  Europe,  was  the  Rev. 
S.  C.  Thacher.  Tlie  strength  of  their  attachment 
survived  that  which  is  said  to  be  the  severest  test  of 
either  love  or  friendship,  —  travelling  and  voyaging 
together.  After  their  return,  no  day  passed  that  they 
did  not  meet  in  the  study  of  Buckminster,  and  they 
usually  dined  together.  Their  literary  efforts  were 
submitted  each  to  the  supervision  of  the  other  ;  and 
they  maintained  the  most  jealous  watch  over  each 
other's  literary  reputation.  Mr.  Thacher  fulfilled, 
with  exquisite  tenderness,  taste,  and  beauty,  the  duty 
of  surviving  friendship,  in  the  memoir  prefixed  to 
the  first  volume  of  '  Buckminster's  Sermons.'  Their 
names  have  since  lived  united  in  hearts  of  sensibility, 
twined  together  by  the  fragrant  wreath  with  which  a 
kindred  genius  has  bound  them.* 

The  two  friends  stood  together  in  the  same  rela- 
tion to  another,  whose  memory  should  not  be  allowed 
to  die  out  of  the  record  of  those  whose  hearts  were 
comforted  by  his  kindness,  or  whose  characters  were 
improved  by  his  counsels.  Dr.  Kirkland  was  fifteen 
years  older  than  Buckminster,  and  eleven  years  his 
senior  in  college ;  Thacher  was  a  year  younger, 
and    four    years    after  him  in    the   records    of  Alma 

*  Rev.  F.  AY.  P.  Greenwood,  in  his  Memoir  of  Rev.  Samuel  Cooper 
Thacher. 

27* 


318  DR.    KIRKLAND. 

Mater :  both  these  young  men  appeared  as  younger 
brothers  to  Dr.  Kirkland.  During  all  the  time  which 
has  elapsed  since  the  death  of  the  latter,  friendship 
and  admiration  have  not  attempted  to  perpetuate  his 
memory  by  a  selection  from  his  admirably  wise  dis- 
courses. Where  shall  the  next  generation  search  for 
memorials  of  Kirkland,  in  order  to  embalm  his  memo- 
ry before  it  shall  have  faded  away  ?  * 

There  are  some  still  living  who  remember  the 
noble  and  venerable  qualities  of  Dr.  Kirkland,  —  who 
remember  how  he  united,  in  a  beautiful  approxima- 
tion, '  the  kindest  affections  with  the  very  spirit  of 
wisdom,  the  keenest  discernment  with  the  gentlest 
judgment  of  human  infirmities.'  He  was  truly  a  wise 
man,  for  wisdom  is  that  exercise  of  the  reason  into 
which  the  heart  enters;  and  if  any  infirmities  were 
discerned  in  the  exercise  of  his  judgment,  they  arose 
from  the  too  large  proportion  of  heart  which  entered 
in,  and  perhaps  disturbed  the  equilibrium  of  the  clear- 
est intellect.  His  insight  into  character  was  most 
penetrating;  he  could  command  the  nicest  dissecting 
powers,  capable  of  dividing  the  germs  of  good  which 
lie  in  every  character  from  the  mass  of  evil  with 
which  education  and  circumstance  has  involved  them. 
His  sarcasm  was  pungent,  but  his  kindness  of  heart 
forbade  him  often  to  use  its  diamond  point.  He  saw 
through  the  motives  of  men's  actions,  even  before 
they  were  themselves  aware  from  what  point  they 
sprang  ;  and  how  often  was  a  young  person  first 
made  acquainted  with  an  unconscious  fault  or  foible, 

*  Except  in  the  Discourses  of  the  Rev.  Drs.  Parkman,  Palfrey, 
and  Young. 


DR.    KIRKLAND. 


319 


by  the  delicacy  of  the  keen  remark  that  apologized 
for  it,  or  the  still  keener  irony  which  defended  it ! 

He  rarely  entered  into  disputation  or  argument,  but 
he  saw  the  whole  field  of  controversy ;  and  such  was 
his  gentleness  and  urbanity,  that  he  seemed  to  yield 
to  others  at  the  very  moment  he  was  leading  them  to 
clearer  views ;  and  the  light  that  he  threw  upon  a 
subject,  bringing  his  opponent  out  of  his  difficulties, 
seemed  to  the  disputant  to  have  arisen  in  his  own 
mind,  and  he  to  remain  master  of  the  victory  which 
Dr.  Kirkland  had  taught  him  how  to  win.  If  hypoc- 
risy and  cant  drew  from  him  a  keen  sarcasm,  cruelty 
and  ingratitude  excited  indignation  which  sometimes 
found  expression  in  the  strongest  terms  of  reproba- 
tion and  contempt.  His  aphorisms  in  conversation 
partook  of  the  mingled  irony  of  Rochefoucault  and 
the  tender  humor  of  Sterne.  Could  he  have  conde- 
scended to  admit  the  admiration  of  a  Boswell,  what 
a  rich  store  of  anecdote  and  shrewd  remark  might 
have  been  preserved,  as  it  dropped  from  his  lips  in 
the  quiet  bonhommie  of  familiar  conversation  ! 

His  character  should  be  drawn  by  an  able  and  dis- 
criminating pen.  May  we  not  hope,  that,  beside  the 
cold  and  perishable  marble,  which  is  now  the  only 
memorial  of  him,  we  may  have  a  living  portrait, 
drawn  by  the  heart-inspired  hand  of  genius,  which 
shall  consecrate  his  memory  in  the  hearts  of  those 
who  loved  him,  and  make  him  known  to  other 
generations  7 


CHAPTER     XVI. 

J.    S.  BUCKMINSTER. HIS    INTEREST    IN    PEKIODICAL    LITERA- 
TURE.    AND    IN     SACRED    LITERATURE.  BEGINNING    OF 

UNITARIAN    CONTROVERSY. EXTRACTS    FROM    SERMONS. 

1808.  The  year  1808  was  one  of  great  activity 

Aged  24.  in  the  life  of  the  son,  and  of  great  interest  in 
that  of  the  father.  The  former  begins  it  by  record- 
ing in  his  journal  his  desire  to  find  and  read  those 
books  that  induce  to  Christian  union.  Nearly  at  this 
period  began  the  controversy  in  the  churches  which 
resulted  in  their  disunion.  He  was  one  of  those  who 
as  ardently  desired  union  as  Lord  Falkland  desired 
peace  in  the  great  civil  war ;  and  yet,  had  he  lived, 
he  must  inevitably  have  taken  his  part  in  the  protest 
which  one  portion  of  the  Church  were  compelled  to 
make  against  what  they  considered  existing  errors. 
Their  protest  was  not  made  till  these  errors  were 
beginning  to  be  established,  as  they  thought,  by  be- 
ing made  part  of  creeds  to  be  subscribed,  contrary  to 
the  spirit  of  freedom  in  the  New  England  churches, 
Mr.  Buckniinster  was  now  twenty-four  years  old, 
the  age  when  men  are  just  beginning  a  course  of 
action  which  is  to  result  in  the  benefit  and  improve- 
ment of  their  fellow-men.  It  is  with  most  persons 
the  liowering  time  of  life,  and  according  as  the  bloom 
is  rich  and  abundant  will  be  the  beauty  and  excel- 
lence of  the  fruit  in  after  years.     Dr.  Channing,  who 


CHANGES    IN    SOCIETY.  321 

was  certainly  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  among 
his  contemporaries,  was  settled  at  twenty-three,  and 
had  just  begun  his  beneficent  work.  With  my  broth- 
er, also,  it  was  but  the  beginning  of  life,  and,  had 
he  lived  to  old  age,  he  wonld  probably  have  looked 
back  to  the  produce  of  these  years  as  but  of  imma- 
ture and  unripe  fruit,  —  the  feeble  commencement 
of  a  future  and  abundant  harvest.  He  mentions  in 
his  journal  being  much  moved  by  Mr.  Channing's 
sermon  upon  Ministerial  Zeal,  at  the  ordination  of 
Mr.  John  Codman,  and  records  a  prayer  that  it  may 
have  its  proper  effect  upon  his  heart. 

Both  these  young  men  entered  upon  active  life  at 
a  period  when  great  changes  were  taking  place  in  the 
community  of  which  they  were  members.  For  half 
a  century,  the  active  and  the  educated  intellect  of  the 
country  had  been  absorbed  by  subjects  connected 
with  the  war  of  Independence,  and  the  excitement  of 
mind  produced  by  the  principles  of  the  French  Revo- 
lution. Things  had  now  settled,  after  the  tumult 
and  terror  of  the  war.  Men  felt  the  security  of  pro- 
perty ;  prosperity,  and  peace,  and  leisure  made  them 
begin  to  look  about  them  for  higher  sources  of  en- 
joyment than  merely  ostentatious  pleasures,  or  the 
luxuries  of  social  life.  The  greater  part,  perhaps, 
were  absorbed  in  what  is  said  to  be  an  exciting 
occupation,  the  accumulation  of  property,  adding  dol- 
lar to  dollar,  and  acre  to  acre  ;  but  there  were  others, 
who  wished  for  purer  pleasures  and  more  elevating 
enjoyments.  To  both  these  young  men  belongs  the 
honor  of  being  leaders  in  the  social  movement  which 
began  about  this  period  of  time. 

The    first   change,   perhaps,   was   a   new   impulse 


822  PEEIODICAL    LITERATURE. 

given  to  literature  by  a  new  zeal  in  the  acquisition  of 
libraries,  and  the  regular  and  systematic  importation 
from  abroad  of  periodical  literature,  monthly  publica- 
tions and  reviews,  and  tfie  establishment  of  reading- 
rooms  where  they  could  readily  be  found,  —  the 
importation  of  classical  authors,  as  well  as  of  the 
current  publications  of  the  day.  Now  also  began  the 
establishment  of  reviews  of  our  own,  magazines  of  a 
superior  and  solid  character,  and  the  beginning  of 
an  expression  of  an  opinion  of  our  own  upon  literary 
and  critical  matters,  instead  of  an  entire  reliance  upon 
authority.  At  this  time,  also,  there  connnenced  an 
interest  in  what  are  called  critical  studies,  the  philo- 
sophical and  analytical  study  of  the  classics  and  the 
Scriptures.  For  all  these  objects  my  brother  felt 
the  warmest  attachment,  and  the  last  was  his  favorite 
and  most  especial  pursuit. 

The  fortunate  circumstance  of  a  pecuniary  bequest 
from  his  maternal  grandfather,  Dr.  Stevens, —  who, 
from  a  salary  of  a  hundred  pounds,  laid  up  some 
thousands  of  dollars,  which  were  husbanded,  during 
his  grandson's  minority,  by  the  most  faithful  of 
guardians.  Judge  Sewall,  of  York,  —  enabled  him,  as 
soon  as  it  came  into  his  hands,  to  indulge  an  innocent 
passion,  by  the  importation  of  English  books.  While 
he  was  at  Exeter,  he  had,  with  great  trouble,  con- 
trived to  obtain  the  Monthly  Review,  usually  re- 
ceiving six  or  twelve  numbers  at  one  time.  His 
chief  occupation  in  Paris  was  collecting  with  great 
care  and  diligence  a  library  of  choice  books,  con- 
nected with  his  favorite  studies  ;  in  the  pinchase  of 
Avhich,  he  spent  nearly  all  his  little  fortinie.  He 
thus  remarks  upon  this  expenditure  in  a  letter  to  his 


PERIODICAL    LITERATURE.  323 

father  :  —  '  If  I  should  be  cut  off  from  the  use  of  these 
luxuries  of  the  mind,  they  will  be  a  treasure  to  those 
who  succeed  me,  like  the  hoards  of  a  miser  scattered 
after  his  death.' 

This  library  of  three  thousand  volumes  was 
unique  *  in  its  character,  such  as  few  of  his  pro- 
fession could  then  have  profitably  employed,  though 
they  could  appreciate  its  value;  and  it  was  always 
as  accessible  for  the  use  of  his  brethren  in  the  pro- 
fession as  for  his  own.  It  was  certainly  character- 
istic of  his  devotion  to  his  favorite  studies,  that, 
while  his  library  at  that  time  was  more  valuable  than 
that  of  any  private  individual  in  Boston,  the  furniture 
of  his  parsonage,  and  his  establishment  of  domestic 
luxuries,  were  frugal  almost  to  the  degree  of  incon- 
venience. 

The  second  object  of  public  interest,  in  M^hich  he 
took  a  most  active  part,  was  the  publication  of 
periodical  literature.  He  was  one  of  the  principal 
promoters  of  the  Literary  Miscellany,  a  monthly 
magazine,  conducted  by  gentlemen  who  were  his 
immediate  friends.  The  first  number  was  published 
in  July,  1803,  and  in  this  was  printed  the  first  pro- 
duction of  his  pen  which  was  given  to  the  press,  a 
review  of  '  Millar's  Retrospect  of  the  Eighteenth 
century.'  This  Miscellany  enjoyed  but  the  short  life 
of  one  year,  and  was  succeeded  by  the  Monthly 
Anthology,  of  which  a  full  account  has  been  given 
in  other  pages.  Ten  volumes  of  the  Anthology  were 
published,  in  all  of  which  there  were  productions  of 
more  or  less  value  from  his  pen.     In  IS  12,  this  was 

*  See  Appendix. 


324  griesbach's  gkeek  testament. 

worthily  succeeded  by  the  General  Repository  and 
Review,  edited  by  Mr.  Norton.  This  was  intended 
as  the  vehicle  of  learned  discussions  and  responsible 
reviews.  The  writer  cannot,  of  conrse,  speak  of  the 
merit  of  the  long  article  from  her  brother's  })en,  in 
the  second  nnmber,  —  the  translation  of  a  learned 
paper  in  Schlcnsner's  Lexicon,  occupying  twenty- 
one  sheets  of  letter-paper  in  his  handwriting.  It 
shows  that  he  must  have  nearly  left  the  sweet  and 
varied  walks  of  general  literature  for  the  thorny  paths 
of  learned  criticism. 

In  this  year,  1808,  he  engaged,  in  conjunction  with 
his  friend,  Mr.  William  Wells,  and  under  the  patron- 
age of  the  University  of  Cambridge,  in  the  publica- 
tion of  Griesbach's  Greek  Testament,  containing  a 
selection  of  the  most  important  various  readings. 
This  work  passed  under  his  most  careful  revision,  in 
the  course  of  which  several  errors  in  the  original  were 
discovered  and  corrected. 

Mr.  William  Wells,  the  publisher  of  Griesbach, 
writes :  — 

'  The  last  proofs  of  the  Cambridge  edition  of  the  Greek 
Testament  were  revised  by  him,  and  this  contributed  greatly 
to  its  extreme  correctness.  Not  the  smallest  mark  or  ac- 
cent escaped  his  penetrating  eye,  and  his  accuracy  often 
excited  much  surprise  in  the  prmting  oflice.  He  was  ac- 
tive in  the  publication  and  distribution  of  Unitarian  books 
and  tracts,  and  contributed  largely  to  these  objects  from  his 
own  resources,  as  well  as  from  funds  supplied  by  his 
friends. 

'  I  believe  that  the  American  edition  of  Griesbach  may 
be  safely  said  not  to  yield  the  palm  of  accuracy  to  any 
which  has  been  published  in  Europe.' 


griesbach's  greek  testament.  325 

A  letter  to    him   from  a   clergyman    in    England 

says  :  — 

'  I  envy  the  American  press  the  honor  of  being  the  first 
to  reprint  that  valuable  edition  ;  and  the  more,  as  a  pocket 
edition  of  the  Greek  Testament  is  now  printing  in  England, 
from  Griesbach's  second  edition,  which  will  therefore  want 
the  corrections  of  the  author,  which  are  inserted  in  your 
German  edition.  Yours  does  infinite  credit  to  the  Ameri- 
can press.' 

'  Proposals  were  also  issued  for  a  supplementary  volume 
to  Griesbach,  to  contain  an  English  translation  of  the  Pro- 
legomena to  his  large  critical  edition,  the  authorities  for  his 
variations  from  the  received  text,  and  some  dissertations, 
original  and  selected,  on  subjects  connected  with  the  criti- 
cism of  the  Bible.  Some  progress  was  made  in  preparing 
this  work  by  Mr.  Buckminster  and  one  of  his  friends,  but, 
as  he  did  not  give  his  name  to  the  proposals,  they  did  not 
receive  sufficient  encouragement  to  induce  him  to  perse- 
vere. In  1810,  he  formed  the  plan  of  publishing  all  the  best 
modern  versions  of  the  prophetical  books  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment. He  proposed  to  use  the  version  of  Bishop  Lowth  for 
Isaiah,  with  the  various  renderings  of  Dodson  and  Stock  in 
the  margin  where  they  differ  from  Lowth.  The  major 
prophets  were  to  be  completed  by  Blayney's  version  of 
Jeremiah  and  Lamentations,  Newcome's  version  of  Ezekiel, 
and  Wintle's  of  Daniel,  with  Blayney's  of  the  Seventy  Weeks. 
Newcome's  translation  of  the  minor  prophets  was  to  have 
followed,  with  variations  from  Horseley's  Hosea,  Benjoin's 
Jonah,  and  Blayney's  Zechariah.  After  this,  he  hoped  to 
have  been  able  to  give  an  additional  volume,  containing  the 
most  important  notes  and  preliminary  dissertations  to  the 
several  books.  The  whole  design,  however,  I  am  almost 
ashamed  to  say,  failed,  for  want  of  a  sufficient  taste  for 
these  studies  among  our  countrymen.'  * 

*  Thacher's  Memoir. 
28 


326  CHURCHES    OF    MASSACHUSETTS. 

Of  another  and  more  important  change,  affecting 
the  relation  of  the  churches  to  each  other  and  to 
society,  the  introduction  of  views  of  Christian  doctrine 
differing  from  those  of  the  first  Puritan  churches,  the 
writer  conceives  that  this  is  not  the  place  to  speak, 
except  so  far  as  the  subjects  of  these  memoirs  were 
concerned  in  them. 

Every  one  the  least  acquainted  with  the  ecclesias- 
tical history  of  the  period,  must  be  aware  that  there  had 
been,  from  the  time  of  the  establishment  of  Brattle 
Street  Church  in  Boston,  a  gradual  relaxation  from  the 
strict  Calvinism  of  our  fathers.  Certainly  that  church, 
when  it  agreed  to  omit  all  relation  of  religious  ex- 
periences, as  unessential  to  admission,  made  as  large 
an  advance  towards  liberality  as  has  been,  at  any 
one  step,  effected  since.  It  is  known  to  those  who 
are  moderately  well  informed  on  this  subject,  that, 
about  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  a  change  became 
apparent  in  the  views  of  many  of  the  clergy  of  New 
England,  touching  those  doctrines  which  had  been 
deemed  essential,  and  were  usually  considered  ortho- 
dox. This  change  was  gradual,  and  almost  imper- 
ceptible. It  did  not  amount  at  once  to  the  adoption 
of  distinct  anti-trinitarian  conceptions,  but  the  tenets 
of  strict  Calvinism  lost  their  hold  upon  the  minds 
of  ministers  and  people,  and  the  orthodox  creed  was 
embraced  with  great  reservations.  Some  of  the 
prominent  ministers  of  the  churches  were  called  '  Ar- 
minians,'  'moderate  Calvinists,'  'Arians.'  Plad  not 
political  events,  and  the  exigencies  of  the  struggle 
for  independence,  absorbed  the  whole  of  the  educated 
mind  of  the  country,  it  seems  as  though  that  division 
in  the  churches  must  have  inevitably  taken  place 
then,  which  was  postponed  half  a  century. 


LETTER  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  TO  DR.  MORSE.  327 

The  change  in  theological  opinion  has  been  as 
gradual  as  most  other  changes,  and  the  result  of  free 
inquiry  has  been  a  new  growth,  the  healthful  devel- 
opment from  the  deep  roots  of  the  tree  of  life.  Cal- 
vinism lost  its  hold  upon  the  minds  of  the  laity  quite 
as  soon  as  it  failed  to  satisfy  their  ministers.  '  It  had 
died  down  to  the  roots,'  as  a  late  writer  observes, 
'before  the  axe  had  touched  it.'  The  evidences  of 
its  powerless  and  inoperative  state  were  lamented  by 
its  friends  before  more  simple  and  evangelical  views 
of  the  religion  of  Christ  brought  back  the  revolted 
mind  of  the  churches  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible, 
rather  than  to  those  of  Calvin. 

The  following  letter,  written  by  Dr.  Buckminster 
fifty  years  ago,  in  answer  to  one  from  Dr.  Morse, 
lamenting  the  falling  off  of  the  ministers  from  ortho- 
dox preaching,  confesses,  also,  that  the  doctrines  of 
Calvin  affright  the  people  and  empty  the  churches. 
It  discloses  a  state  of  things  which  is  not  generally 
acknowledged  by  either  party,  —  that  the  people 
took  the  lead  in  liberal  views,  and  would  not  listen 
to  Calvinistic  preaching. 

'I  lament 'the  state  of  things  to  which  it  appears  to  me 
a  departure  from  true  evangelical  principles,  and  a  silence 
respecting  the  peculiarly  humbling,  awakening,  and  affect- 
ing doctrines  of  the  Gospel  in  the  public  teachers  of  it,  have 

contributed  their  full  share Is  it  not  too  true  that 

ministers  leave  the  humiliating  state  of  man  as  a  fallen  and 
apostate  creature,  his  helplessness  and  danger,  the  glorious 
character  of  Christ  as  a  Divine  person,  the  special  influences 
of  the  Spirit,  the  necessity  of  regeneration,  and  the  awful 
prospects  of  the  impenitent  and  unbelieving,  out  of  their 
public  discourses,  and  fdl  them  with  philosophical   disquisi- 


328  LETTER  OF  DR.  BUCKMINSTER  "TO  DR.   MORSE. 

tions,  moral  essays,  and  popular  harangues  ?  I  do  n't  know 
but  many  may  do  this  from  an  honest,  but,  in  my  view, 
very  erroneous  apprehension,  that  it  will  serve  to  remove 
the  objections  of  some  amiable  moral  characters,  and  con- 
ciliate them  to  the  Gospel.  But  what  advantage  is  it  to 
conciliate  them  to  a  Gospel  that  is  not  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
and  fails  of  the  energies  necessary  to  make  them  holy  and 
happy?  It  appears  to  me  the  charges  and  descriptions, 
contained  in  that  most  excellent  treatise  of  Mr.  VVilberforce, 
are  as  applicable  to  us  as  to  the  country  for  which  he  wrote. 
Defects  in  principle  are  more  dangerous  and  destructive 
than  in  practice.  They  are  like  a  disease  at  the  heart.  A 
diseased  limb  may  be  amputated  ;  a  stream  polluted  by 
accidental  filth  in  its  channel  may  be  easily  cleansed  ;  but 
where  the  fountain  is  impure,  all  labor  upon  the  stream  will 
be  wholly  thrown  away.  The  fountain  must  be  cleansed, 
the  heart  must  be  healed.  If  ministers  are  really  concerned 
and  distressed,  and  would  seek  a  remedy,  they  must  return 
in  their  preaching  to  the  terrors  of  the  law  and  the  grace  of 
the  Gospel ;  they  must  preach  the  plain  doctrines  of  reve- 
lation, and  with  boldness  and  candor  address  to  the  con- 
sciences of  men  the  awful  and  the  alluring  motives  therein 
contained ;  and  represent  sin,  as  it  is  most  clearly  repre- 
sented in  the  Gospel,  as  such  an  evil  that  nothing  short  of 
the  interterposition  of  a  Divine  person  could  atone  its  guilt 
or  remove  its  malignant  effects.  Many  persons  apprehend 
that  such  preaching  would  affright  people  from  the  Gospel, 
and  empty  our  churches  and  religious  assemblies  at  once. 
Duty  is  ours,  events  are  God's.  We  must  preach  the 
preaching  that  God  bids  us,  and  appeal  to  the  law  and  to 
the  testimony.  The  truth  sanctifies  ;  error  may  please,  but 
it  cannot  profit. 

'  But  is  there  nothing  to  be  done  by  us  ?  we  may  ask. 
Those  who  fear  God  must  speak  often  to  one  another  upon 
the  things  of  God,  and  pray  most  earnestly  for  themselves 
and  brethren ;    and,  as  the  high  priest  always  offered  for 


THE  CHARGE  OF  CONCEALBIENT  OF  OPINIONS.  329 

his  own  sins  before  he  did  for  the  sins  of  the  people,  would 
it  not  be  commendable  for  us  ministers  to  have  days  of 
private  social  fasting,  and  let  them  be  spent  as  days  of 
real  humiliation  and  not  of  conviviality  ?  Might  not  asso- 
ciation meetings  be  so  improved  ?  After  this,  we  might 
with  greater  confidence  and  hope  of  success  have  more 
public  seasons  of  prayer,  following  up  our  devotions  with 
the  spirit  of  divine  things  in  all  Our  commerce  with  the 
world. 

'  Dear  Sir,  I  should  need  to  make  an  apology  for  the 
freedom  with  which  I  have  written,  did  it  not  afford  the 
strongest  proof  of  the  entire  confidence  I  have  in  you,  as 
a  faithful,  sincere,  and  experienced  servant  of  Jesus  Christ. 
May  God  be  with  you  and  your  brethren,  and  direct  you 
in  the  subject  of  your  inquiries,  the  result  of  which  I  shall 
be  obliged  to  you  to  communicate  to  your  friend  and 
brother, 

'  J.    BUCKMINSTER. 
'  April  24th,  1799.' 

The  above  letter  was  written  fifty  years  ago.  Does 
it  not  imply  that  ministers  had  ceased  to  preach  the 
humiliating  doctrines,  that  is,  the  doctrines  of  Cal- 
vinism, and  that,  in  the  opinion  of  one  who  retained 
this  faith,  it  was  because  they  would  'affright  people, 
and  empty  at  once  the  churches  and  religious  assem- 
blies '  ?  It  is  more  honorable  to  all  the  ministers  of 
Boston  and  the  vicinity,  and  probably  more  true, 
that  they  had  ceased  to  believe  in  Calvinism,  and 
therefore  ceased  to  preach  it.  It  would  be  invidious, 
and,  with  all  the  light  thrown  upon  the  last  fifty 
years,  it  would  be  unjust,  to  say  that  any  continued 
to  believe  in  Calvinism,  and  concealed  their  faith 
because  it  would  empty  their  churches.  But,  as  it 
has  been  so  often  asked  why  those  whose  faith  in 
28* 


330 


PURITAN    INFLUENCES. 


orthodoxy  was  shaken  did  not  come  forward  at  once 
and  make  confession,  may  we  not  with  equal  perti- 
nence ask,  wliy  did  not  Calvinists,  who  continued, 
such,  assert  their  sentiments  previous  to  the  conchi- 
sion  of  the  last  century,  and  in  the  heginning  of 
this  ?  One  of  their  own  number  says  they  did  not, 
and  we  are  justified  in  saying,  either  that  they  con- 
cealed their  sentiments  for  fear  of  emptying  their 
churches,  or  that  Calvinism  had  lost  its  hold  upon 
the  societies,  and  that  it  was  only  as  the  faith  of  a 
party  that  its  spirit  was  resucitated. 

Of  the  younger  subject  of  this  memoir,  it  is  well 
known  that  his  earliest  years  were  spent  under  the 
influences  of  Calvinism  ;  and,  however  its  stern  fea- 
tures may  have  been  softened  by  the  mingling  with 
them  of  the  aspect  of  paternal  love,  that  form  of  re- 
ligion was  associated,  with  all  his  tender  youthful 
feelings  of  devotion.  Whoever  has  passed  the  early 
part  of  life  in  New  England  can  hardly  fail  to  look 
back  upon  some  one  of  his  ancestors,  a  descendant 
of  those  'strong-hearted  and  God-fearing'  Puri- 
tans, who  has  been  to  him  the  venerable  type  of 
Calvinistic  religion,  —  some  one  who  looked  with  sad 
or  stern  displeasure  upon  all  innnvation  on  the  Gene- 
van formulas,  and  upon  all  relaxation  of  the  Puritan 
discipline  of  life.  Conscientious  and  faithful  to  his 
first  convictions,  the  morning  and  evening  came  to 
him  burdened  with  prayers  for  the  sins  and  follies 
which  he  saw  every  where  around  him.  His  belief 
in  the  total  depravity  of  his  fellow-men,  and  of  his 
own  children,  was  strangely  at  variance  with  the  ten- 
derness of  his  heart,  and  the  indulgence  of  his  hope- 
fulness.     He  affirmed  that  the  grace  of   God  alone 


CHANGE    OF    RELIGIOTTS    OPINIONS.  331 

could  change  the  disposition  to  evil,  and  impart  a 
saving  faith  ;  and  yet  the  necessity  of  religious 
culture  was  perpetually  reiterated,  and  precept  upon 
precept  was  followed  by  line  upon  line. 

It  was  under  such  influences  that  religion  descended 
like  the  dew  upon  my  brother's  childhood,  and  opened 
in  his  heart  the  blossoms  of  a  spiritual  faith,  and  a 
tender,  childlike  piety.  Calvinism  could  never  have 
made  him  gloomy,  nor  Puritanism  bigoted  and  ascetic. 
But  as  soon  as  he  began,  in  preparation  for  his  profes- 
sion, a  careful,  impartial,  and  critical  study  of  the 
Scriptures,  without  seeking  in  them  for  the  support 
of  previously  received  opinions,  he  found  that  he 
could  not  discover  in  them  that  theology  which  had 
been  the  support  and  solace  of  so  many  hearts  among 
his  ancestors.  While  studying  at  Exeter,  he  seems 
to  have  rejected  the  doctrine  of  total  and  innate  de- 
pravity, and  other  tenets  connected  with  it ;  and 
although  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  was  approached 
with  caution  and  reluctance,  yet,  at  the  age  of  nine- 
teen he  writes  thus  to  his  father  :  —  'I  have  em- 
ployed almost  every  day  since  my  return  from  Ports- 
mouth, in  reading  the  most  orthodox  works  upon  the 
Trinity,  —  Edwards,  Jamieson,  Ridgely,  etc.  ;  and, 
from  what  I  know  of  the  state  of  my  own  mind,  I 
despair  of  ever  giving  my  assent  to  the  proposition 
that  Jesus  Christ  is  God,  equal  to  the  Father.  I  have 
been  thus  explicit,  that,  whatever  may  be  my  future 
lot,  I  may  still  retain  the  consciousness  of  having 
preferred  the  relinquishment  of  every  prospect  of 
fame  or  preferment  to  the  slightest  evasion  or  hypoc- 
ricy  upon  subjects  deemed  by  you  so  important.' 

His  continued  study  upon  this  and  kindred  subjects 


332  DOCTRINAL    OPINIONS. 

resulted  certainly  in  a  wide  departure  from  strict  Cal- 
vinism. He  rejected  all  connection  with  the  tenets  of 
Soeinus.  Socinianism,  which  admits  of  no  spiritual 
aid,  in  the  perfect  obedience  to  law  which  it  de- 
mands, could  have  no  attraction  for  a  mind  so  early 
imbued  with  a  devout  longing  for  an  intimate  com- 
munion with  God.  He  became  afterwards  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  the  writings  of  English  Unitarians  ; 
and  he  felt  unbounded  respect  for  those  honest  men, 
and  noble  confessors,  who,  for  conscience'  sake,  gave 
up  all  worldly  advancement.  He  admired  their  phi- 
lanthropy, and  sympathized  with  their  efforts  to  har- 
monize Scripture,  reason,  and  common  sense  ;  yet  he 
did  not  belong  to  them.  It  does  not  appear  that  he 
wholly  sympathized  with  any  one  of  the  divisions  by 
which  Christians  were  classed  at  the  beginning  of 
this  century.  He  endeavored  to  vindicate  those 
views,  which  satisfied  his  own  earnest  efforts  after 
truth,  and  he  was  ready  to  cooperate  with  all  who 
strove  to  advance  a  spiritual  piety,  and  an  elevated 
standard  of  morals,  and  a  sincere  adoption  of  '  the 
new  commandment'  of  love.  Extracts  which  will  be 
given  from  some  few  of  his  sermons,  upon  points  of 
doctrine,  will  show  in  what  views  his  studies  had 
resulted  at  the  early  period  of  his  death.  The  labor 
which  he  devoted  to  anxious  inquiries  was  uncheered 
by  sympathy  from  his  father  ;  and  he  had  the  addi- 
tional sorrow  of  finding  that  the  results  of  his  study 
placed  him  in  painful  antagonism  to  that  revered 
friend  of  his  youth. 

At  the  period  of  his  settlement,  and  even  at  his 
death,  there  had  been  no  outward  and  marked  division 
in  the  churches.     In  the  Congregational  churches  of 


CHANGE   IN    THEOLOGICAL    OPINIONS.  333 

Massachusetts  there   had  been  no  uniform  confession 
of  faith.     Neither    the    churches    nor  the    ministers 
were  amenable  to  any  tribunal,  and  the  spirit  of  Con- 
gregationalism  had  left  every  minister  at  liberty  to 
gather  his  sentiments  and  opinions  from  the  only  rule 
of  faith,  a  conscientious   study  of  the  word  of  God. 
The  differences  of  opinion,  which  must  necessarily 
exist  among  men  who  think  for  themselves,  had  not 
arisen  to  such  a  height  as  to  form  schisms  or  separa- 
tions of  churches.     Trinitarians,  Arminians,  Calvin- 
ists,    Hopkinsians,    and    Baptists    united    in   acts    of 
Christian  fellowship.     At    ordinations   and  councils. 
Dr.  Morse  and  Dr.   Channing,  Dr.    Osgood  and  Dr. 
Kirkland,   sat  side   by  side,  and  were  associated   in 
apparent    harmony  together.     This   has  since    been 
called  a  deceitful  show  of  union,  involving  a  disin- 
genuous concealment  of  opinions,  arising  from  a  spirit 
of  indifference  to  the  purity  of  doctrine,  and  an  attach- 
ment to  worldly  advantages.    To  some  minds,  it  may 
seem  to  have  been  a  prudent  and  generous  accommo- 
dation to  the  spirit  of  brotherly  love,  and  that  it  did 
as  much  honor  to  the  ministers  of  Massachusetts  as 
any  thing  in  their  history.     While,  to  some,  it  may 
appear   that  the   true  doctrines  of  the  Church  were 
sacrificed  in  such  freedom,  others  will  be  persuaded 
that  the  spirit  of  Christian  fellowship,  and  the  only 
true  Gospel  influences,  were  advanced  ;  and  that,  if 
dogmas  and  polemics  were  kept  in  abeyance,  minis- 
ters and  people  became  better  Christians. 

It  was  certainly  honorable  to  those  who  thus  ac- 
corded, that  they  considered  the  things  in  which  they 
agreed  as  of  more  importance  than  those  in  which 
they  differed,  and  as  being  a  sufficient  ground  of  Chris- 


334  CHANGE    IN    THEOLOGICAL    OPINIONS. 

tian  communion.  It  was  thought,  also,  at  that  time, 
that  a  man  might  be  sincere,  if  erroneous,  and  capa- 
ble of  teaching  that  which,  with  God's  blessing, 
would  save  men's  souls,  if  he  did  not  acknowledge  as 
infallible  truth  all  the  so-called  doctrines  of  the  Refor- 
mation. And  this  honor  attaches  to  all  parties ;  for 
each  minister  seems  secretly  to  have  determined, '  I  will 
not  be  the  first  to  open  a  schism.  I  will  stand  fast  in 
the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  has  made  me  free,  and 
those  who  abridge  this  liberty  are  the  only  sectarians.' 
It  has  been  made  a  frequent  subject  of  reproach, 
especially  at  the  present  tirrie,  against  those  who  re- 
jected the  doctrines  of  orthodoxy,  among  whom  the 
younger  subject  of  this  memoir  is  recognized,  that 
they  did  not  come  out  and  make  proclamation  of  their 
opinions  upon  certain  points,  and  of  their  disagree- 
ment with  the  dogmas  of  Calvin.  What  has  just 
been  said  seems  a  sufficient  answer.  They  were 
amenable  to  no  one  for  their  opinions.  These  opin- 
ions were  formed  with  slow,  anxious,  and  painful 
study,  and  there  was  no  moment  in  the  process  of 
their  laborious  investigation  that  any  one  had  a  right 
to  demand  a  confession  from  them  of  their  progress 
or  their  conclusions.  They  were  accountable  to  their 
own  consciences  only,  which  required  them  to 
preach  what  they  believed,  not  what  they  did  not  be- 
lieve. Then,  parishes,  as  we  have  seen,  were  some- 
times in  advance  of  the  ministers,  and,  in  many 
cases,  more  liberal  than  they.  From  the  peculiar  bit- 
terness of  theological  divisions,  it  could  Hot  be  hoped 
that  such  a  state  of  things  would  long  continue. 
When,  after  the  death  of  Eckley,  and  Emerson,  and 
Buckminster,  those  who  had  departed  from  the  faith 


LETTER    TO    MR.    BELSHAM.  335 

of  Calvin,  were  placed  in  antagonism  with  their 
brethren,  they  were  sufficiently  ready  to  defend  them- 
selves and  their  position ;  but  that  was  after  the 
period  with  which  these  memoirs  have  any  concern. 
The  only  public  hostility  which  Mr.  Buckminster 
encountered  was  a  severe  attack  upon  a  small  collec- 
tion of  hymns  prepared  for  the  use  of  the  Brattle 
Street  Church.  The  reviewer  charged  him  with 
unauthorized  alterations,  for  the  purpose  of  suppress- 
ing certain  doctrines.  The  hymns  were  adapted  to 
particular  subjects  of  discourses,  and  intended  to  sup- 
ply the  deficiencies  of  Tate  and  Brady's  version  ;  and 
it  has  been  mentioned  in  another  page  of  this  memoir 
that  the  compiler  took  ihem  from  Dr.  Kippis's  selec- 
tion, and  was  ignorant  that  any  alteration  had  been 
made  in  them.  In  writing  to  Rev.  Mr.  Belsham,  of 
England,  at  this  time,  he  speaks  thus  of  the  state  of 
religion  in  Boston :  — 

'  December  5th,  1809. 

'  The  most  exclusive  spirit  of  Calvinism  seems  now  re- 
viving, and  perhaps  gaining  ground,  in  Boston.  I ,  have 
been  exposed  to  some  of  its  deadliest  shafts  in  consequence 
of  a  little  collection  of  hymns,  unorthodox,  not  heterodox, 
which  I  have  made  for  the  use  of  my  society.  However, 
we  shall  stand  our  ground  very  firmly  in  Boston.  There  is 
no  place  on  the  face  of  the  globe  where  so  much  attention 
is  paid  to  ministers  by  all  ranks,  especially  by  the  most 
enlightened.  Those  very  men  who,  in  New  York  and 
Philadelphia,  would  probably  be  unbelievers  because  they 
could  not  be  Calvinists,  are,  among  us  in  Boston,  rational 
Christians,  —  the  most  constant  supporters  of  public  wor- 
ship, the  most  intimate  friends  of  the  clergy,  and  not  a  few 
of  them  professors  of  i-eligion.  Our  only  danger  is  in  our 
security  and  strength.     "  In  such  an  hour  as  we  think  not, 


336  CHAKACTER    OF    DR.    ECKLEY. 

sudden  destruction  may  come  upon  us,"  but  I  think  there  is 
a  root  of  rationality  and  soberness  in  Boston,  which,  with 
God's  blessing,  can  never  fail  to  spring  up  and  flourish  here, 

except  by  the  culpable  indifference  of  its  cultivators 

'  I  am  in  general  much  pleased  with  Macknight.     I  need 
not  tell  you  that  the  great  difficulty  in  Paul's   Epistles  lies 
in  about  half  a  dozen  words.     If  I  could  settle  their  mean- 
ing, I  should  bless  God  all  the  rest  of  my  life. 
'  Yours,  with  the  highest  regard, 

'  J.  S.  BUCKMINSTER.' 

Dr.  Eckley,  the  venerable  pastor  of  the  Old  South 
Church,  died  in  April,  1811 ;  and  it  was  in  the  follow- 
ing terms  that  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street,  who  was 
counted  in  the  van  of  the  advocates  of  liberal  views, 
spoke  of  him  the  Sabbath  after  his  interment :  — 

'  When  the  image  of  Dr.  Eckley  rises  to  my  thoughts, 
I  cannot  for  a  moment  suspect  that  the  I'egard  shown  to 
his  memory  was  the  dictate  of  form,  or  a  tribute  to  office 
or  to  age.  No  ;  it  was  the  tribute  which  virtue  pays  to 
virtue,  which  friendship  pays  to  friendship.  It  was  the  lan- 
guage of  undisguised  affection  and  esteem.  It  was  the 
homage  which  the  community,  even  when  most  corrupt, 
will  always  pay  to  a  heart  of  whose  goodness  it  is  sui'e. 
True,  he  was  a  faithful  minister ;  but  he  was  also  a  faithful 
man  ;  he  was  respected  and  loved  in  every  place,  as  well 
as  in  his  office. 

'  Those  who  were  his  coevals  and  his  long-tried  asso- 
ciates bear  witness  to  his  faithfulness,  and  the  disinterested- 
ness of  his  friendships.  Those  of  us  who  were  younger  in 
the  ministry,  and  who  could  not  be  expected  to  form  those 
close  intimacies  which  was  the  privilege  of  those  who  knew 
him  early,  yet  cannot  speak  of  his  worth  without  ardent 
wishes  that  it  had  pleased  God  to  continue  him  longer  to 
us.     His  desire  to  preserve  a  Christian  fellowship,  and  the 


CHAEACTER    OF    DR.   ECKLEY.  337 

most  liberal  intercourse  with  his  brethren,  was  too  well 
known  to  be  doubted,  and  cannot  be  remembered  without 
gratitude  and  admiration.  Every  day  made  his  life  valua- 
ble to  us  as  a  friend  and  father,  a  mediator  in  our  profes- 
sion. He  had  no  bitterness  ;  no  uncharitableness  ;  no  desire 
for  spiritual  authority  ;  no  symptoms  of  religious  pride  ;  no 
tendencies  to  an  exclusive  system  of  Christianity.  He  was 
indeed  a  man  who  loved  the  religion  of  Christ  wherever  it 
existed,  and  who  loved  a  good  man  in  whatever  denomina- 
tion he  found  him.  He  had  the  reputation  of  what  is  often 
called  orthodox  theology ;  and  the  character  of  his  early 
preaching,  and  the  nature  of  his  early  connections,  had 
contributed  to  establish  the  opinion  of  his  being  attached 
to  a  creed  more  dogmatical  than  was  received  by  many 
of  his  contemporaries  and  successors  in  the  ministry.  But 
he  always  evinced  a  most  amiable  anxiety  to  manifest  his 
superiority  to  those  principles  of  exclusion  and  separation 
which  some  men  think  are  the  natural  consequences  of 
his  belief.  I  do  not  believe  that  the  mere  circumstance 
of  speculative  dissent  ever  alienated  his  mind  from  a  single 
human  being,  or  quenched  the  warmth  of  his  ministerial 
attachment  to  his  brethren.  He  abhorrred  a  selfish  spirit 
in  religion  as  well  as  in  common  life.  Would  to  God  that 
his  spirit  might  descend  upon  us  in  all  its  generosity  and 
purity  !  for  as  long  as  the  remembrance  of  him  remains 
among  his  brethren  in  the  ministry,  they  will  not  want  a 
standard  of  Catholicism  by  which  they  may  ascertain  what 
spirit  they  are  of. 

'  There  was  also  a  great  simplicity  and  openness,  as  well 
as  purity  of  character,  in  Dr.  Eckley,  which  was  character- 
istic of  a  Christian,  in  whom  there  should  be  no  guile.  He 
was  a  man  who  had  no  hidden  and  private  purposes  to 
serve,  and  you  could  always  put  trust  in  him  without 
anxiety ;  and  I  may  safely  appeal  to  you  all  for  the  general 
impression  which  prevailed  of  his  integrity  and  candor;  — 
an  impression  which  is  never  delusive,  and  which  no  man 
29 


338  VARIETIES    OF    RELIGIOUS    OPINION. 

can  preserve  through  a  life  of  such  length  as  his,  without 
deserving  the  character  he  has  gained.  This  is  that  honest 
testimony  which  public  and  private  sentiment  pays  to  a 
man  of  real  worth,  which  is  the  true  reflection  of  the  testi- 
mony of  a  man's  own  conscience,  and  is  worth  more 
than    all    the    eulogies    of  orators    and  all    the    forms    of 

mourning 

'  In  short.  Dr.  Eckley  seems  to  me  to  have  been  one  of 
those  men  whose  loss  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  supply.  He 
filled  a  place  which  few  men  are  so  happy  as  to  hold,  or 
to  be  able  to  fill,  between  the  extremes  into  which  minis- 
ters, who  are  of  like  passions  with  other  men,  are  con- 
tinually rushing.  It  was  impossible  not  to  respect  him  ;  and 
many,  many  will  confess  with  a  sigh,  that  they  loved  him, 
—  they  were  not  prepared  to  lose  him ;  and  his  affectionate 
spirit  was  fled  before  we  could  bid  it  farewell ;  and  long, 
long  will  it  be  before  we  can  replace  him  !  It  would  have 
been  grateful  to  us  to  witness  the  disposition  of  his  mind 
while  departing, —  to  have  received  his  parental  regards, — 
to  have  expressed  our  respect  and  aflection  to  so  advanced 
and  worthy  a  brother ;  but  God,  in  whose  hands  are  the 
issues  of  life,  determined  otherwise,  and  we  know  that  He 
is  wise  and  gracious,  and  that  He  has  some  good  purpose 
to  serve  by  this  truly  afflictive  dispensation.  He  is  gone  to 
his  long  home,  and  the  mourners  go  about  the  streets ; 
yet  thy  presence,  O  God,  has  gone  with  him  and  given 
him  rest ! ' 

There  was  felt,  by  the  older  ministers  of  the  Boston 
Association,  —  by  Dr.  Eckley,  Dr.  Lathrop,  and  Dr. 
Osgood,  —  the  greatest  reluctance  to  break  the  ancient 
harmony  of  the  churches.  As  each  one  had  formed 
his  opinions  through  a  sincere  desire  for  truth,  guiding 
his  search  in  the  Scriptures,  they  were  unwilling  to 
insist  upon  any  other  centre  of  union,  or  any  other 
standard  of  truth,  except  the  Scriptures.     As  Calvin- 


RELIGIOUS    OPINIONS.  339 

ism  was  renounced,  different  aspects  of  dissent  ap- 
peared, according  to  the  character  of  each  mind  in 
which  it  had  lost  its  authority.  In  some,  as  an  intel- 
lectual protest  against  incomprehensible  doctrines ;  in 
others,  as  a  plea  against  dogmatism  ;  and  in  many,  as 
a  desire  for  a  more  simple,  and  spiritual,  and  reason- 
able faith.  There  was  but  one  point  upon  which  the 
liberal  party  were  united, — the  rejection  of  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity ;  to  admit  the  personal  Godhead 
of  Christ  was  to  them  impossible.  Upon  no  other 
subject  could  they  have  agreed  in  an  issue.  Upon 
the  doctrines  of  the  atonement,  the  supernatural  influ- 
ences of  the  Spirit,  the  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures, 
so  much  did  they  differ,  that  they  probably  would  not 
have  held  together.  On  these  subjects,  some  of  the 
liberal  party  would  have  been  found,  at  the  time  of 
which  we  speak,  on  the  side  of  orthodoxy.  How 
futile,  then,  is  the  charge  against  them,  that  they  con- 
cealed their  sentiments  because  they  were  not  pre- 
pared for  acts  of  decision  !  Both  parties  deprecated 
that  religious  warfare  which  would  estrange  parish 
from  parish,  brother  from  brother,  and  bring  into  the 
tenderest  hearts  the  most  acute  distress.  But,  now 
that  it  is  passed,  every  one  must  acknowledge  that 
the  area  of  the  warfare  has  been  enriched.  A  more 
thorough  and  critical  investigation  of  the  Scriptures 
is  demanded  ;  a  deeper  and  more  fervently  religious 
spirit  is  cultivated  in  all  the  churches ;  and  a  more 
general  knowledge  of  theology  and  kindred  subjects 
pervades  the  whole  community. 

Some  extracts  from  unpublished   manuscript  ser- 
mons follow;  —  and  here  it  should  be  distinctly  re- 


340  ON    THE    CHAKACTER    OF    CHRIST. 

marked,  that  although  Mr.  Biickminster  is  ranked,  and 
justly,  among  Unitarians,  yet  he  never  took  the  name 
upon  himself,  nor  used  it  as  a  distinctive  term,  signifi- 
cant of  his  own  faith.  He  was  not  a  sectarian  in 
feeling,  nor  a  controversialist  in  practice.  He  pos- 
sessed nothing  of  the  odium  iheologictim,  which  has 
sometimes  shown  itself  since  his  death.  Those  who 
belong  to  opposite  parties  in  the  Church,  though  they 
may  differ  from  the  conclusions  to  which  he  came  in 
applying  the  rules  of  criticism  to  the  interpretation 
of  the  sacred  writers,  have  ever  done  justice  to  the 
candor  and  honesty  of  mind  displayed  in  his  critical 
and  theological  discussions. 

'  ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST. 
'  "  The  Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God."  —  Mat.  xvi.  16. 

'  When  we  receive  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  we  receive  him  as 
he  has  himself  repeatedly  explained  the  character,  and 
as  it  is  announced  in  the  prophecies  to  which  he  has  him- 
self appealed  ;  —  as  the  Son  of  God  ;  the  Holy  One  of  God  ; 
the  Sent  of  God  ;  the  Anointed,  the  Sanctified  of  God  ;  —  in 
short,  to  comprise  in  one  expression  of  our  Saviour's  the 
whole  of  the  sentiment  contained  in  the  reception  of  Jesus 
as  the  Christ,  it  is  to  honor  the  Son  as  he  honors  the  Father; 
his  authority  and  that  of  the  Father  is,  to  the  Christian, 
coincident  and  identical. 

'  In  this  explanation  of  that  article  of  faith  on  which  all 
our  Christianity  is  built,  there  appears  to  me  nothing  am- 
biguous or  difficult.  To  receive  Jesus  as  the  Christ,  it  is 
neither  necessary  that  we  should  understand  the  concep- 
tions of  that  character  as  they  existed  in  the  minds  of  the 
Jews,  nor  that  we  should  know  the  whole  signification  of 
the  meaning  included  in  the  phrase  "  Son  of  God  ; "  but 
that  we  should  take  the  explanations,  as  far  as  we  can  un- 
derstand them,  which  our  Lord  himself  has  given  us  of  his 


ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  CHRIST.  341 

character,  and  receive  him  as  clothed  with  the  authority  of 
God.  Let  me  but  know,  let  me  be  convinced,  that  any 
sentiment,  law,  promise,  or  declaration  is  Christ's,  and  it  is 
to  me,  a  Christian,  the  word  of  God,  —  the  word  of  the 
Father  which  the  Son  has  revealed. 

'  Among  those  who  have  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  our 
religion,  and  who  claim  to  be  its  supporters,  great  diversity 
of  opinion  prevails  as  to  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  You 
will  find  many  making  the  Son  of  God  not  their  teacher, 
their  leader,  their  model,  and  their  judge,  but  a  kind  of 
intermediate  protection,  a  screen  from  the  justice  of  the 
Father.  They  are  ready  to  receive  him  as  a  propitiation, 
a  security,  a  sacrifice,  a  substitute  ;  as  one  on  whose  mercy 
they  repose  to  shelter  them  from  the  fury  of  the  Deity ;  but 
not  as  the  King  whose  laws  they  ought  to  obey,  whose 
spirit  they  must  imbibe,  and  whose  steps  they  must  follow. 
They  represent  to  themselves  Jesus  as  one  who  has  suffered 
all  the  punishment  due  to  the  sinner,  and  whose  righteous- 
ness is  to  be  imputed  to  them.  His  blood,  they  imagine, 
has  washed  them  from  their  pollutions,  and  his  sufferings 
have  paid  an  infinite  satisfaction  for  their  sins.  As  Jesus  is, 
in  their  opinion,  the  Infinite  and  Almighty  Deliverer,  they 
seem  to  think,  that,  if  by  a  single  act  of  faith  they  have 
got  him  upon  their  side,  they  have  no  more  to  fear,  and 
are  released  from  the  penalties  which  their  iniquities  de- 
serve. I  hope,  my  Christian  hearers,  that  I  need  not  cau- 
tion you  against  these  abuses,  or  tell  you  that,  whatever 
may  be  the  personal  dignity  of  your  Saviour,  you  cannot 
attain  to  final  salvation  without  repentance  for  your  sins, 
a  pure  faith  in  his  religion,  and  true,  steadfast,  unreserved 
obedience  to  his  Gospel. 

'  What,  then,  is  the  idea  that  the  sincere  and  intelligent 
Christian  entertains  of  Jesus  Christ,  —  he  who  confesses 
with  his  whole  heart  that  he  is  the  Christ,  the  Son  of  the 
living  God  ?  He  does  not  perplex  himself  whh  fruitless 
inquiries  into  the  precise  nature  of  that  relation  which  sub- 
29* 


342  REGENERATION. 

sisted  between  Jesus  on  earth  and  the  Supreme  Deity  ;  he 
does  not  disturb  his  mind  with  endeavoring  to  explain  the 
manner  in  which  he  was  the  Son  of  God,  nor  the  precise 
boundaries  between  his  nature  and  that  of  the  Father.  No ; 
it  is  to  him  of  much  more  importance  to  ascertain  the  rela- 
tion in  which  Jesus  stands  to  himself,  —  what  Jesus  is  to 
him  and  he  to  Jesus.  He  receives  without  difficulty  the 
declaration  which  Jesus  has  made  of  himself  as  the  only 
begotten  Son  of  the  Highest ;  he  views  him  as  enjoying  the 
most  intimate  union  with  the  Deity,  full  of  his  energy  and 
spirit ;  his  visible  likeness  on  earth  ;  the  express  image, 
among  men,  of  the  Supreme,  whom  no  mortal  eye  hath 
seen,  or  can  see.  He  receives  him  as  the  expected  object 
of  ancient  prediction,  ordained  to  appear,  to  diffuse  blessings 
and  life  over  the  world.  He  who  knows  him,  knows  the 
Father.  He  who  honors  him,  honors  the  Father  who  sent 
him.  To  the  faithful  Christian,  Jesus  is  the  restorer  of 
human  integrity  and  happiness  ;  able  to  reform  and  to  lead 
us  to  God.  He  is  the  Mediator  who  brings  us  nearer  to 
God  ;  and  proclaims  the  peace  and  pardon,  and  imparts  the 
blessings  of  the  New  Covenant.  He  is  the  Deliverer  from 
sin  and  death ;  the  Saviour  ;  the  Prince  of  Life.  The 
Christian  looks  to  him  as  the  great  leader,  whose  steps  he 
is  to  follow,  whose  character  he  is  to  resemble,  whose  de- 
cision he  is  to  await.  He  looks  to  him  as  the  head  of  the 
Christian  community,  to  whom  all  authority  is  committed, 
to  whom  is  due  entire  submission  and  obedience,  and  who 
will  become  wisdom  and  righteousness,  sanctification  and 
redemption  to  those  who  will  obey  him.  He  is  indeed, 
like  Thomas,  on  the  recognition  of  the  Saviour,  ready  to 
exclaim,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God  !  "  ' 

'UPON   EEGENERATION. 

'  "  Except  a  man  be  bom  again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God." 
John  iii.  3. 

'  It  is  not  enough,  Nicodemus,  that  you  should  visit  me 
in  the  secrecy  of  the  night  to  declare  your  belief  in  my 


REGENERATION.  343 

Divine  authority  ;  for  except  a  man  be  born  again,  of  water 
and  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  —  except  you  openly  profess  my 
religion  and  your  heart  be  transformed  into  the  spirit  of  my 
Gospel,  —  you  cannot  be  a  subject  of  the  kingdom  I  am 
about  to  establish 

'  Nicodemus,  either  intentionally  or  ignorantly  misunder- 
standing our  Saviour,  supposes  him  to  mean  a  repetition  of 
man's  natural  birth.  "  How  can  a  man  be  born,"  says  he, 
"  when  he  is  old  ?  "  This  mistake  leads  our  Saviour  to 
explain  with  more  particularity  the  nature  and  course  of  the 
moral  change,  or  new  birth.  "  The  wind  bloweth  where  it 
listeth  and  thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not 
tell  whence  it  cometh,  nor  whither  it  goeth :  so  is  every  one 
that  is  born  of  the  Spirit."  The  changes  and  revolutions  of 
the  human  mind  mock  the  eye  of  sense  in  their  progress. 
They  are  known  only  by  their  effects.  The  operations  of 
God's  Spirit,  —  the  influence  of  causes  that  change  the 
whole  character,  that  produce  a  revolution  like  that  ot  a 
new  birth,  are  silent  as  the  wheels  of  time.  You  hear  not 
its  footsteps,  you  see  not  its  passing  form,  but  the  effects 
are  momentous  and  eternal.  Your  mind  is  raised  to  a 
purer  atmosphere ;  your  thoughts  reach  a  more  exalted 
height ;  you  better  understand  your  relation  to  God  and 
Christ,  and  the  holy  duties  that  result  from  your  new 
birth. 

'  Look  back,  my  hearers,  upon  your  lives,  aud  observe 
the  numerous  opinions  that  you  have  adopted  and  discarded, 
the  numerous  attachments  you  have  formed  and  forgotten, 
and  recollect  how  imperceptible  were  the  revolutions  of 
your  sentiments,  how  quiet  the  changes  of  your  affections. 
Perhaps,  even  now,  your  minds  may  be  passing  through 
some  interesting  processes,  your  pursuits  may  be  taking 
some  new  direction,  and  your  character  may  soon  exhibit 
to  the  world  some  unexpected  transformation.  Compare 
with  this  the  spiritual  regeneration  of  the  heart.  So  is  every 
one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit.     Perhaps  the  following  may 


344  REGENERATION. 

not  be  an  imperfect  description  of  the  process  that  takes 
place  in  a  mind  which  is  the  subject  of  a  radical  conversion. 
The  motion  of  the  wind  is  unseen,  its  effects  are  visible  ; 
the  trees  bend  and  fields  are  laid  waste  ;  though  the  alter- 
ing sentiments  and  affections  are  unnoticed,  the  altered 
character  obtrudes  itself  upon  our  observation.  Truths, 
before  contemplated  without  concern,  now  seize  the  mind 
with  a  grasp  too  firm  to  be  shaken.  The  world  which  is 
to  succeed  the  present  is  no  longer  a  subject  of  accidental 
thought,  of  wavering  belief,  or  lifeless  speculation  ;  a  region 
to  which  no  tie  binds  us,  and  which  no  curiosity  leads  us 
to  explore.  To  the  regenerated  mind,  the  character  and 
condition  of  man  appears  in  a  new,  an  interesting  light. 
To  a  being  whose  existence  has  but  just  commenced,  death 
is  only  a  boundary,  a  line,  that  marks  off  the  first,  the 
smallest  portion  of  existence.  Earth  with  her  retinue  of 
allurements,  her  band  of  fascinating  syrens,  exclaims,  "  We 
have  lost  our  hold  on  this  man !  Fie  is  no  longer  ours ! " 
Religion  welcomes  her  new  adherent;  she  beckons  him  to 
turn  his  steps  into  a  new,  a  pleasanter  path  ;  and  God  him- 
self looks  down  from  heaven  with  complacency  and  love, 
illuminating  his  track  by  the  light  of  his  countenance,  mark- 
ing the  first  step  he  takes  in  religion,  and  supporting  him  by 

the  staff  of  his  grace,  the  aid  of  his  Holy  Spirit 

'  2d.  But  what  means  does  the  Spirit  of  God  use  to  efTect 
this  regeneration,  to  form  this  character,  to  cherish  this  life 
of  God  in  the  soul  of  man  ?  On  this  subject  much  has  been 
spoken  and  written  mystically,  much  unintelligibly,  much 
absurdly,  and  much  falsely.  It  has  been  said,  with  daring 
impiety,  that  the  more  profligate,  profane,  and  corrupted  the 
character,  the  more  probable  is  its  regeneration,  that  God 
may  show  to  an  astonished  world  what  wonders  his  grace 
can  effect.  Every  age  has  been  deluded  with  accounts  of 
the  physical  and  mechanical  operations  of  the  Spirit,  so 
that  we  should  probably  suppose  it  to  be  some  subtle  fluid, 
instantaneous    and    irresistible    in    its   effects.      But    in   the 


REGENERATION.  345 

whole  course  of  Scripture  history,  comparing  a  period  of 
thousands  of  years,  not  an  instance  can  be  found  of  the 
use  of  violent  means  for  the  production  of  a  merely  moral 
change.  Should  the  conversation  of  Paul  be  alleged,  as  it 
ever  is,  to  support  the  cause  of  enthusiasm,  let  it  once  for 
all  be  considered  that  it  is  a  solitary  instance,  and  in  an 
age  abounding  with  miracles ;  and  secondly,  that  the  public 
and  instantaneous  change  of  such  a  man,  who  was  an 
enemy  to  the  faith,  added  to  the  weight  of  testimony  in 
favor  of  Christianity  a  wonderful  fact,  which  cannot  be 
accounted  for  except  in  supposition  of  the  truth  of  the 
history  of  Jesus,  and  it  thus  gives  a  peculiar  propriety  to 
the  mode  of  conversion  in  this  case 

'  But  as  long  as  it  is  easier  to  fall  down  in  swoons,  to  start 
in  convulsions,  and  to  groan  in  distress,  than  to  renovate  and 
purify  the  heart,  —  as  long  as  it  is  possible  to  gain  belief  to 
professions  of  an  instantaneous  change  without  showing  the 
gradual  operation  of  the  Spirit  in  the  progressive  reforma- 
tion, increasing  holiness  and  goodness,  of  the  character, — 
so  long  will  the  cause  of  Christ  be  dishonored,  the  minds  of 
the  good  disturbed,  and  the  ear  of  the  infidel  delighted,  by 
pious  delusions  and  solemn  extravagances 

' "  Sanctify  us  by  thy  truth  ;  thy  word  is  truth,"  says  the 
Gospel.  "  Those  who  are  born  again,"  says  Peter,  "  are 
born  not  of  corruptible  seed,  but  of  incorruptible,  by  the 
word  of  God."  At  this  word  the  proudest  hearts  have 
bowed,  and  consciences  encased  in  mail,  invulnerable  to 
the  feeble  weapons  of  philosophy  and  unchristianized 
morality,  have  been  pierced  to  the  quick,  and  sought  the 
only  remedy  for  their  wounds  in  the  balmy  blessings  of 
the  Gospel  of  peace 

' "  Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  thee,  except  a  man  be  born 
again,  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  The  necessity 
of  this  new  birth  appears  from  the  nature  and  condition  of 
man.  We  wish  not  to  enter  into  the  consideration  of  the 
doctrine  of  original  sin,  depravity,  or  the  imputation  of  sin. 


346  THE    ATONEMENT. 

Leaving  these  terms  of  theology,  look  round  only,  we  entreat 
you,  on  tlie  world  in  which  we  live ;  see  it  deformed  by 
corruption,  spotted  by  pollution ;  see  it  full  of  men  buried 
in  sinful  pursuits  and  enslaved  to  innumerable  lusts  that  war 
against  the  soul.  The  first  objects  that  engage  the  dawning 
mind  of  the  child  are  objects  of  sense.  That  which  is  born 
of  the  flesh  is  flesh.  It  is  a  selfish,  sensual  creature,  igno- 
rant of  its  Creator,  of  its  destination ;  uninclined  to  the 
purity,  the  spirituality,  the  power  of  religion ;  alienated 
from  the  life  of  God,  the  life  of  the  soul !  Unrenewed  by 
the  influence  of  religious  truth,  undirected  by  the  guiding 
hand  of  an  Almighty  Father,  how  shall  such  a  creature 
reach  the  regions  of  immortal  bliss  ?  Is  it  enthusiasm,  is 
it  folly,  is  it  hypocrisy,  to  say  to  such  a  creature,  "  You 
must  be  born  again  before  you  can  see  the  kingdom  of 
God  ?  "  Is  that  Redeemer  to  be  disclaimed  who  offers  you 
his  Divine  aid  to  form  anew  your  character,  to  exalt  your 
affections,  to  enlighten  your  dreary  and  desolate  under- 
standing ?  Would  it  not  be  a  contemptuous  abridgment  of 
the  bounty,  and  an  ungrateful  restriction  of  the  meaning, 
of  the  Saviour,  to  suppose  that  he  intended  to  confine  his 
assertion  of  the  necessity  of  this  regeneration  to  the  Jews 
or  Gentiles  of  that  age  ?  Reflect,  it  is  not  with  Nicodemus 
only,  but  with  us,  he  is  conversing ;  and  if  our  lips  declare 
"  We  know.  Master,  thou  art  a  teacher  sent  from  God,"  to 
us  he  still  replies,  "  Verily,  I  say  unto  you,  you  are  not  my 
disciples  till  you  are  regenerated  ;  till  you  have  imbibed 
my  Spirit,  you  cannot  inherit  my  future  and  immortal 
.  empire." ' 

'  UPON  THE  ATONEMENT. 

'  "  In  whom  we  have  redemption  through  his  blood."  —  Col.  i.  14. 

[After  enumerating  the  various  ways  in  which  the  death 
of  Christ  is  spoken  of  in  the  Scriptures,  the  nature  and 
meaning  of  sacrifices  among  the  Jews,  &c. :  —  ]  'In  the 
second  place,  I  propose  to  state  to  you,  in  general,  some 


THE    ATONEMENT.  347 

of  the  ideas  which  Christians  have  entertained  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  death  of  Christ.  Here  you  will  immediately 
perceive  that  a  plain  line  of  distinction  must  necessarily  be 
drawn  between  those  who  receive  the  language  of  Scripture 
on  this  subject  in  a  literal  sense,  and  those  who  give  it  only 
a  figurative  interpretation.  Of  the  ideas  of  the  latter,  I 
may  say  in  general,  that  they  imply  such  a  diminution  of 
the  strict  meaning  of  language  as  is  hardly  consistent  with 
any  commonly  received  notion  of  inspiration.  They  sup- 
pose the  death  of  Christ  was  described  in  sacrificial  terms, 
borrowed  from  the  Old  Testament,  in  order  to  reconcile  the 
Jewish  Christians  to  the  simplicity  of  the  new  dispensation, 
and  enable  them  to  find  something  in  Christianity  answering 
to  the  sacrifices,  oblations,  priests,  and  ceremonies  to  which 
they  had  been  accustomed  under  the  old  dispensation.  If, 
however,  the  sacrifices  under  the  Mosaic  dispensation 
had  any  expiating  efficacy,  and  the  Apostles  believed  that 
they  had,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  death  of  Christ, 
which  they  represented  as  supplying  their  place,  should  be 
so  described  in  mere  accommodation  to  the  idea  of  the 
Jews,  unless  it  in  truth  contained  something  of  a  similar 
or  superior  nature.  These  Christians,  therefore,  believing 
that  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of  sin  which  may  not  be 
pardoned  upon  repentance,  believe,  too,  of  course,  that  sac- 
rifices which  had  been  considered  necessary  to  the  accept- 
ableness  of  repentance,  was  neither  in  truth  of  any  intrinsic 
value,  nor  had  they  any  reference  to  the  great  atone- 
ment which  they  had  been  said  to  prefigure.  But  if  there 
is  nothing  really  propitiatory  in  the  practice  of  sacrifices, 
it  is  extremely  difficult  to  account  for  the  idea  which  has 
universally  prevailed  of  their  necessity  in  order  to  secure 
the  favor  of  God,  and  not  less  difficult  to  account  for  their 
origin  and  prevalence  in  the  world.  They  suppose,  also, 
that  the  intention  of  the  Mosaic  expiations  did  not  regard 
the  moral  element,  but  only  ceremonial  vmcleanness,  or 
something  equally  unimportant ;  that  they  had  no  reference 


348  THE    ATONEBIENT. 

to,  or  prefiguration  of,  the  death  of  Christ,  and,  of  course, 
that,  whatever  vakie  they  possessed,  they  did  not  derive  it 
from  that  great  sacrifice  foreordained  in  the  councils  of 
Heaven.  In  one  word,  they  talte  it  for  granted,  that  the 
death  of  Christ  is  described  in  these  sacrificial  terms,  not 
because  it  really  possessed  an  expiatory  efiicacy,  or  an 
efficacy  similar  to  that  belonging  to  the  Jewish  sacrifices, 
but  because  there  were  circumstances  in  the  one,  to  which 
they  could  find  something  parallel  in  the  other.  You  will 
easily  perceive  how  much  this  reduces  the  literal  meaning 
of  the  language  of  the  Scriptures,  and  will  perhaps  say  that 
it  leaves  as  many  difficulties  unaccounted  for  as  the  system 
of  those  who  adopt  the  literal  meaning. 

'  In  direct  opposition  to  this  latitudinarian  explanation, 
and  at  the  other  extreme,  is  the  system  of  those  who  con- 
sider the  death  of  Christ  as  that  great  event  upon  which  the 
pardon  of  the  world  depends,  and  without  which,  no  person 
living,  whatever  his  character  may  be,  short  of  entire  inno- 
cence, can  be  rescued  from  eternal  condemnation  and 
misery,  which  is  the  positive  punishment  to  be  annexed  in 
a  future  life  to  the  smallest  transgression. 

'  The  notions  of  sin,  on  which  their  system  is  founded, 
are  these  :  —  The  least  deviation  from  the  laws  of  God  is 
either  an  infinite  evil,  or  such  an  infinhe  dishonor  to  his 
character,  that  it  cannot,  consistently  with  God's  justice,  or 
the  nature  of  things,  be  forgiven  simply  upon  repentance, 
without  some  satisfaction  equivalent  to  the  dreadfulness  of 
the  evil.  Some,  however,  disdain  as  presumptuous  the  asser- 
tion that  God  cannot  forgive  the  offences  of  men  without 
some  scheme  of  atonement,  and  only  maintain  that  it  was 
inconsistent  with  his  attributes  and  character  to  forgive  sin 
upon  mere  repentance,  or  in  any  other  manner.  Under 
this  idea,  therefore,  that  there  was  something  of  vicarious 
atonement  in  the  death  of  Christ,  without  which  sin  was 
unpardonable,  they  explain  the  origin  of  sacrifices,  and  the 
notions  of  mankind  'respecting  their  efficacy.     They  sup- 


THE    ATONEMENT.  349 

pose  that  sacrifices  were  originally  instituted  by  God  in 
reference  to  this  great  and  final  sacrifice,  and  this  only 
gave  them  their  significance  and  value.  They  suppose  that 
unless  the  death  of  Christ  is  considered  as  a  real  expiation, 
no  well-grounded  hope  can  be  entertained  by  any  man  of 
deliverance  from  the  future  and  everlasting  punishment  of 
his  sins ;  and  of  course  they  maintain  that  all  the  repre- 
sentations in  Scripture  relating  to  this  subject  convey  the 
idea  of,  and  require  the  belief  of,  a  true  and  proper  atone- 
ment. 

'  It  is  true,  that  upon  this  scheme,  there  is  some  difficulty 
in  reconciling  the  phrases,  which  represent  Christ  some- 
times as  the  priest,  and  sometimes  as  the  sacrifice  ;  and 
which  atti'ibute  the  efficacy  of  his  mediation  sometimes  to 
his  example,  sometimes  to  his  death,  at  others  to  his  resur- 
rection, and  in  others  to  his  intercession.  Upon  the  whole, 
therefore,  they  are  willing  to  admit  that  all  that  Christ  did 
and  suffered  is  to  be  taken  into  the  account  ;  that  his 
obedience  altogether  constitutes  the  equivalent  satisfaction, 
without  which  it  was  impossible  for  the  sins  of  mankind 
to  be  forgiven. 

'  Between  these  two  views  of  the  subject  many  others  have 
been  invented  by  theologians,  giving  up  or  retaining  more 
or  less  of  the  peculiarities  of  each.  These  I  have  not  time 
or  inclination  to  detail  to  you.  In  order,  however,  to  arrive 
at  just  conceptions  of  the  nature  of  our  redemption,  and  to 
avoid  the  extravagances  into  which  systematic  theologians 
have  fallen,  it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  mind  the  following 
principles:  —  In  considering  the  character  and  conduct  of 
our  God,  we  must  be  careful  not  to  separate  any  one  of  his 
attributes  from  the  others,  his  mercy  from  his  justice,  or  his 
justice  from  his  mercy.  This  would  be  to  reduce  his  nature 
to  our  limited  conceptions.  His  attributes  are  all  har- 
monious, and  his  nature  one  great  impulse  toward  what  is 
best.  Hence,  if  we  contemplate  his  mere  justice,  apart 
and  unmodified  by  any  other  quality,  we  must  in  truth  con- 
30 


350  THE    ATONEBIENT. 

sider  our  relation  to  him  in  the  light  of  debt  and  credit ; 
and  in  this  view  of  the  subject,  it  may  be  said,  indeed,  that 
he  could  nQt  forgive  an  offender,  till  some  adequate  satisfac- 
tion, beside  mere  repentance  was  provided,  to  render  it 
proper  to  be  propitious.  But  the  light  in  which  reason  and 
Christianity  represent  God  is  that  of  a  parent.  Now  a 
parent,  however  disposed  he  may  be  to  forgive  a  disobedient 
child,  may  yet  think  it  highly  proper  not  to  receive  him  into 
favor,  upon  his  mere  symptoms  of  returning  affection ;  but 
may  rest  his  acceptance  on  some  condition,  which,  though 
not  strictly  indispensable,  may  yet  be  extremely  proper,  to 
impress  the  child  more  strongly  with  the  crime  of  his  dis- 
obedience, and  operate  to  prevent  a  repetition  of  the  offence. 
Such  is  the  light  in  which  we  ought  to  consider  the  method 
which  God  has  adopted  in  declaring  his  disposition  to  for- 
give his  offending  children  of  the  human  race.  Again : 
whatever  may  have  been  the  real  efficacy  of  the  death 
of  Christ,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that  the  change  of  dis- 
position is  wrought  upon  God.  His  nature  is  immutable, 
and  his  purposes  are  originally  benevolent.  The  object  of 
the  Scripture  representation  is  to  operate  upon  ourselves. 
Till  the  effect  is  produced  upon  ourselves,  the  propitiation  of 
our  Saviour,  however  great  or  powerful,  is  of  no  avail  to  our 
redemption. 

'  Keeping  in  view,  then,  the  parental  character  of  God, 
and  the  object  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  let  us  always  con- 
sider that  the  method  which  God  has  chosen,  to  declare  and 
to  dispense  his  pardon,  is  unquestionably  the  wisest  and  best. 
You  may  ask  why  God  could  not  have  explicitly  declared, 
that,  upon  the  sincere  repentance  of  a  sinner,  he  was  ready 
to  receive  him  into  favor,  without  connecting  it  in  any  way 
with  the  sacrifice  of  so  illustrious  a  person  as  the  Son  of 
God  ;  I  answer,  I  know  not.  I  know  only,  that  God  has 
chosen  another  method,  whicli  he  undoubtedly  thought  more 
effectual  and  proper.  I  may  answer  you,  too,  by  proposing 
a  parallel   example.     If  you    ask   me  why  God   could   not 


THE    ATONEMENT.  351 

have  effected  his  purpose  of  bringing  life  and  imnmortality  to 
hght,  by  simply  assuring  us  of  it  upon  his  bare  authority, 
without  coupling  it  with,  or  making  it  depend,  as  he  has 
done,  on  the  resurrection  of  his  Son,  I  can  only  answer, 
because  he  has  thought  the  latter  method  more  effectual.  It 
was  unquestionably  better  calculated  to  influence  the  belief 
of  the  contemporaries  of  our  Lord  to  show  them  the  fact  of 
a  person's  rising  from  the  dead,  than  any  mere  declaration 
of  a  future  existence  could  have  been.  In  the  same  man- 
ner, he  has  thought  it  better  to  assure  the  world  of  the  par- 
don of  sin,  by  setting  before  their  eyes  the  great  sacrifice  of 
Jesus,  and  directing  their  attention  to  it  in  this  light,  than 
merely  by  a  simple  declaration  of  his  placability.  If  these 
remarks  are  properly  considered,  I  think  we  shall  be  more 
disposed  to  acquiesce  in  the  method  which  God  has  chosen ; 
and,  instead  of  presumptuously  declaring  what  he  might 
have  done,  we  shall,  with  humility,  endeavor  to  derive  from 
the  Scripture  account  of  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  motives  of 
gratitude  and  consolation,  and  a  deep  abhorrence  of  those 
sins  which  occasioned  this  scheme  of  suffering  and  death. 

'  I  proceed,  therefore,  with  more  pleasure,  to  the  third 
head  of  my  discourse,  in  which  I  proposed  to  consider  the 
practical  considerations  suggested  by  the  death  of  Christ. 

'  1.  In  the  first  place,  it  leads  us  to  the  most  exalted 
and  touching  conceptions  of  the  mercy  of  God.  My  dear 
friends,  have  you  ever  looked  into  your  own  hearts,  and 
compared  them  with  the  purity  of  God  ?  Have  you  ever 
considered  that  it  is  mercy  and  unmerited  and  perfectly 
gratuitous  forbearance  only  in  your  Creator  which  has 
continued  you  yet  in  life,  and  withheld  from  you  that  pun- 
ishment which  your  ingratitude  and  your  unworthiness  have 
deserved  .?  What  was  it  but  compassion,  which  could  hold 
out  to  creatures  like  us  the  hope  of  the  future  friendship  of 
the  pure  Being,  who  cannot  behold  iniquity,  even  the  most 
secret  and  unobserved,  without  abhorrence  ?  And  what 
but  the  most  unbounded  benignity,  far  beyond  the  ordinary 


352  THE    ATONEMENT. 

standard  by  which  we  estimate  goodness,  would  have  pro- 
vided a  dispensation  by  whi&h  such  unpretending  and 
worthless  men  as  we  are  may  aspire  to  eternal  felicity  and 
improvement  ?  Have  you  considered,  also,  the  dreary  and 
benighted  state  of  the  world,  on  the  subject  of  pardon, 
before  the  appearance  of  Christ  ?  the  horrible  notions  which 
prevailed  of  the  Divinity,  the  dread  of  his  justice,  the  inex- 
pressible fears  and  horrors  with  which  futurity  was  invested, 
the  tremendous  sacrifices  with  which  the  Deity  was  propiti- 
ated, the  heart-rending  doubts  which  prevailed  in  the  purest 
and  most  enlightened  minds  on  the  subject,  as  to  the  Divine 
placability  ?  Whenever  a  good  man  reaches  that  last  hour, 
when  the  world  shrinks  into  nothing  in  his  sight,  and,  in- 
stead of  it,  when  all  his  sins  and  imperfections  rise  up  in 
fearful  array  before  him,  —  when  his  conscience  tells  him 
what  he  has  deserved,  but  holds  out  no  certain,  sure,  and 
pacifying  method  of  obtaining  pardon  and  relief,  —  then  it 
is  that  he  may  learn  to  estimate  the  mercy  of  the  Gospel 
dispensation.  Then,  when  he  is  looking  round  for  some 
promises  of  pardon,  the  method  of  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord  presents  itself  as  an  inexpressible  consolation, 
and  he  blesses  God  for  the  hope  of  his  Gospel !  He  now 
regards  every  thing  which  Jesus  has  suffered  as  a  pledge 
from  God  of  the  security  of  his  gracious  promise.  Every 
other  expiation,  oblation,  ceremony,  however  expensive,  or 
however  awful,  he  sees  to  be  worse  than  ineffectual,  —  even 
impious.  In  this  state  of  mind  his  philosophy  deserts  him. 
He  receives  with  humility  and  joy  the  redemption  held  out 
by  Jesus.  He  sees  in  Jesus  the  compassionate  character  of 
God,  and  he  sees  it  clearly  nowhere  else.  He  is  no  longer 
disposed  to  inquire  into  the  minute  relations  of  every  thing 
which  he  sees  in  the  sacrifice  of  Christ ;  but  he  embraces 
the  simple  declaration  that  God  is  in  Christ,  and  reconciling 
the  world  unto  himself,  not  imputing  unto  men  their  tres- 
passes. He  sees  enough  of  the  character  of  God  in  the 
simple  fact,  that  he  has  given  the  world  an  encouragement, 


THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION.  353 

by  the  death  of  so  pure  and  spotless  a  victim,  that  the 
access  to  God  is  open,  and  the  hope  of  pardon  a  hope  to 
which  he  may  aspire.  He  will  feel  unable  to  express  his 
gratitude  to  the  Father  of  mankind,  that  he  has  not  left  them 
in  distressing  ignorance,  in  all  the  horrors  of  unexpiated 
guilt ;  but  whatever  assurance  can  possibly  be  afforded  to 
unworthy  creatures  is  contained  in  the  scheme  of  redemp- 
tion which  God  has  chosen  to  display  his  benignity. 
"  Herein  is  love,  not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved 
us,  and  sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins."  ' 

The  extracts  which  follow  are  from  the  last  ser- 
mon, except  two,  which  my  brother  ever  wrote. 
The  sermon  was  written  in  the  April  previous  to 
his  death,  and  may  be  understood  to  express  his 
last  opinions. 

'  "  What  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life  ?  "  —  Luke  x.  25. 

'  We  have  the  authority  of  the  Saviour  to  answer  the 
question  in  one  invariable  manner :  "  If  thou  .wouldst  enter 
into  life,  keep  the  commandments."  But  here  a  question 
arises,  whether  it  be  possible,  from  the  nature  and  condition 
of  man,  perfectly  to  keep  the  commandments  of  God  ?  If 
not,  how  can  this  be  the  condition  of  human  salvation  ? 
We  answer,  that,  though  there  should  not  be  a  just  man 
upon  earth,  who  sinneth  not,  it  alters  not  the  requisitions  of 
the  Divine  law.  Since,  in  speaking  of  God,  we  must  make 
use  of  human  language,  of  what  are  called  forensic  terms, 
we  may  observe  that  it  is  the  very  nature  of  law,  and  indeed 
of  every  rule,  to  require  the  most  exact  conformity.  The 
law  of  God,  like  every  other,  when  considered  simply  as 
law,  provides  no  dispensations,  and  exposes  every  offender, 
even  in  the  minutest  degree,  to  punishment.  It  would  not 
be  law,  indeed,  if  it  did  not.  But  though  the  Scriptures, 
and  the  systems  of  theologians  in  different  places,  represent 
the  moral  government  of  God  over  his  imperfect  creatures, 
.30* 


354  THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION. 

under  two  different  aspects,  of  a  covenant  of  works  and  a 
covenant  of  grace,  of  pure  law  and  pure  mercy,  as  if  they 
were  opposite  and  irreconcilable  principles  ;  yet  we  should 
beware  of  contemplating  the  character  of  God  as  consisting 
of  attributes  at  war  with  one  another,  but  rather  should  we 
consider  it  in  the  whole  as  one  great  impulse  toward  what 
is  best.  It  is  impossible,  indeed,  from  the  nature  of  the 
case,  to  admit  that  God's  law,  as  it  is  called,  requires  any 
thing  short  of  perfect  obedience.  This  we  cannot  allow, 
while  we  continue  to  talk  of  God  in  terms  of  human  legisla- 
tion ;  it  is  the  unavoidable  consequence  of  the  application 
of  the  language  of  men  to  the  ways  of  God.  Yet  when  we 
say,  that  God  requires  from  every  man  an  obedience  abso- 
lutely sinless,  we  know,  at  the  same  time,  that  he  provides 
for  the  pardon  of  transgressors  on  their  repentance. 

'  The  parental  character  is  that  in  which  God  has  ever 
delighted  to  exhibit  himself;  and  it  was  to  display,  confirm, 
and  establish  on  the  surest  grounds  this  parental  character 
of  God,  that  the  Son  of  God  came  into  the  world.  The 
dispensation  of  Christianity  proceeds  altogether  on  this  view, 
and  any  other  dispensation  toward  such  a  nature  as  man's 
would  be  absolute  cruelty  and  injustice.  If  men  choose  to 
say,  that  this  favor,  or  grace,  or  mercy,  toward  offenders,  or 
by  whatever  name  it  may  be  called,  was  obtained  by  the 
sacrifice  of  Christ,  or  is  dispensed  on  the  ground  of  his 
propitiation,  it  comes  to  the  same  thing  ;  because,  for  the 
original  appointment  of  this  mode  of  acceptance,  we  must 
still  revert  to  the  precious  love,  or,  in  other  words,  to  the 
parental  character  of  God. 

'  Further,  if  it  should  be  asked  whether  any  human  being 
has  ever  attained  to  this  sinless  conformity  to  the  Divine 
commands,  we  answer,  No  ;  for  this  would  imply  that  some 
one  of  our  race  had  reached  that  point  of  perfection  beyond 
which  improvement  was  impossible,  —  a  supposition  incon- 
sistent with  our  present  condition  as  a  state  of  probation, 
contrary  to  all  the  representations  of  Scripture,  and  to  all  our 
experience  of  human  character. 


THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION.  355 

'  What !  then,  you  will  say,  has  no  human  being  ever 
mei^ited  the  gift  of  eternal  life  ?  We  answer,  Certainly  he 
has  not.  For  it  is  the  very  nature  of  the  Gospel,  that  it  is 
a  dispensation  of  grace,  that  its  great  benefit  cannot  be 
claimed  as  a  debt,  but  is  bestowed  in  consequence  of  a 
gracious  promise.  Yet  it  is  no  less  true  that  the  sincere  and 
uniform  endeavor  to  do  what  God  requires,  and  repentance 
for  failures  and  transgressions,  which  is  followed  by  amend- 
ment, may  be  called  the  eternal  condition  of  everlasting 
life,  because  the  character  and  declarations  of  God  have 
explicitly  made  them  such  under  the  dispensation  of  Chris- 
tianity. 

'  But  it  may  again  be  asked,  if  our  final  acceptance  with 
God  depends,  not  on  absolute  and  sinless  perfection,  but  on 
that  sincerity  of  disposition  and  endeavor  which  produces 
prevailing  obedience  and  continual  progress  in  virtue,  how 
is  it  possible  for  any  one  to  be  sure  of  eternal  life,  or  to 
know  whether  he  is,  at  any  one  time,  in  a  state  of  salvation  .? 

'  I  answer,  in  the  first  place,  that,  if  men  desire  to  know 
what  precise  amount  of  holiness  will  rescue  them  from 
perdition,  the  very  question  implies  that  they  have  not  the 
true  principle  of  religious  obedience  ;  and,  if  there  be  any 
answer  to  be  given  to  such  a  question,  it  is  most  wisely 
concealed  from  us,  for  the  very  notion  of  true  obedience  is 
inconsistent  with  such  an  inquiry. 

'  In  the  second  place,  to  the  sincere  Christian  the  answer 
would  be  useless  ;  for  whatever  assurance  he  might  at  one 
time  indulge,  yet,  as  long  as  he  remains  a  probationary 
creature,  liable  to  relapse,  and,  consequently,  obliged  to 
watchfulness  and  exertion,  the  assurance  of  salvation  at  any 
particular  period  would  be  injurious  or  deceitful.  All  that 
we  should  desire  or  expect  to  attain,  is  a  well-grounded 
hope  of  our  acceptance  with  God,  as  the  reward  of  un- 
reserved obedience,  of  unfeigned  repentance,  of  daily 
progress  in  Christian  virtue.  This  is  the  hope  which 
maketh  not  ashamed,  for  the  love  of  God  is  shed  abroad 
in  the  heart. 


356  THE   TERMS    OF    S^iLVATION. 

'  Another  mistake  of  the  terms  of  acceptance  with  God 
is  to  rely  upon  faith  only  for  salvation.  This  has  generally 
been  rather  a  verbal  than  a  material  error,  and  was  in 
former  times  more  dangerous  than  now  ;  for  a  defect  of 
faith,  in  the  subject  of  Christianity,  is,  at  the  present  day, 
far  more  common  than  too  great  confidence  or  credulity. 
But,  as  this  mistake,  like  many  others,  is  still  founded  on 
the  sound  of  certain  passages  of  Scripture,  let  us  hear  what 
is  so  often  quoted  from  the  favorite  Apostle  on  this  subject. 
"  By  grace,"  says  he,  "  ye  are  saved  through  faith  ;  and  a 
man  is  justified  by  faith  without  the  deeds  of  the  law." 
Does  Paul,  then,  mean  to  declare,  that  bare  belief  in  Jesus 
Christ,  without  repentance  and  obedience,  can  secure  to 
any  man  the  gift  of  eternal  salvation  ?  Let  his  brother 
Apostle  answer,  as  he  has,  in  terms  which  nothing  can  render 
more  explicit :  "  What  does  it  profit  a  man,  if  he  say  he 
have  faith,  and  have  not  works  ?  Can  faith  save  him  > 
No ;  faith  without  works  is  dead,  being  alone."  .... 

'  Another  mistake  of  the  terms  of  acceptance  with  God 
is  found  among  those  who  profess  to  rely  solely  upon  the 
merits  of  Christ.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  men,  who  have 
never  evinced  any  sentiments  of  religion,  or  given  any  satis- 
factory evidence  of  repentance  and  reformation,  using  this 
too  familiar  language  :  "  For  does  not  an  Apostle  assure 
us,"  say  they,  "  that  we  have  an  advocate  with  the  Father, 
Jesus  Christ  the  righteous,  who  is  a  propitiation  for  our  sins, 
and  not  for  ours  only,  but  for  the  whole  world  ?"  But  for 
what  sins,  my  Christian  friends  ?  For  those  which  we 
have  not  forsaken,  or  of  which  we  have  not  repented  ? 
For  those  sins  which  we  eveiy  day  commit,  without  remorse 
and  without  consideration  ?  Suppose  the  merits  of  Christ 
be  infinite,  incalculable.  Can  they  supply  our  sinful  omis- 
sions of  duty  ?  Christ  has  done  nothing  for  the  unrepenting 
sinner.  Christ  can  do  nothing  for  the  presumptuous  sinner, 
whose  reliance  on  a  Saviour's  merit  is  thought  sufficient  to 
excuse  him  from  any  obedience  or  virtue  of  his  own. 


THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION.  357 

'  The  application  of  Christ's  righteousness  to  ourselves 
is,  in  truth,  a  phrase  altogether  unscriptural.  The  word  of 
God  conveys  no  such  meaning  as  the  phrase  bears  in  the 
mouth  of  an  irreligious  man.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the 
worth  of  our  Saviour's  life  and  character  is  beyond  all 
estimate,  and  his  obedience  unto  death  was,  in  the  sight 
of  God,  inexpressibly  precious  ;  but  never  can  this  worth 
become  ours,  except  so  far  as  we  repent  and  forsake  our 
sins,  and  imitate  his  life  and  obedience  ;  and  whatever  may 
be,  in  the  sight  of  God,  the  efficacy  of  his  death,  never 
let  it  be  imagined  that  it  is  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  which 
we  still  retain,  the  sins  which  we  will  not  forsake  ! 

'  Again.  Do  we  rely  for  salvation  on  the  effectual  and 
miraculous  operation  of  God's  spirit,  pleading  our  inability 
to  render  that  obedience  which  God's  law  requires  ?  Take 
cai'e,  my  friends,  that  you  do  not  misunderstand  this  abstract 
and  difficult  subject. 

'  If  we  mean  only,  that,  without  this  powerful  energy  and 
continual  support,  we  could  neither  live,  nor  act,  nor  think, 
this  indeed  is  well.  If  we  mean,  that,  without  his  gracious 
instruction,  encouragement,  and  blessing  on  our  exertions, 
we  could  neither  contend  with  our  lusts,  correct  our  habits, 
reform  our  lives,  or  make  progress  in  the  divine  life,  all 
this  is  undeniable.  But,  if  we  go  further  than  this,  if  we 
imagine  our  inability  to  do  what  is  good  is  such  that  it 
is  not  at  any  time  in  our  power  to  cease  to  do  evil,  but  that 
we  may  plead  this  impotency  in  defence  of  our  sins,  the 
very  suggestion  only  shows  the  strength  of  our  evil  habits, 
the  greatness  of  our  corruption,  and  the  extreme  danger  of 
our  situation. 

'  But  does  not  an  Apostle  say,  "  We  are  not  sufficient  of 
ourselves,  but  all  our  sufficiency  is  of  God  "  ?  He  does. 
But  for  what  were  these  early  converts  not  competent  .'' 
To  perform  what  God  had  required  of  them  ?  To  render 
obedience  to  his  laws,  and  devote  themselves  to  his  ser- 
vice ?     Surely  not.      The   Apostle   has    here    reference    to 


358  THE    TERMS    OF    SALVATION. 

those  miraculous  powers  with  which  his  brethren  were  fur- 
nished for  the  propagation  of  the  Gospel.  He  is  comparing 
the  total  inadequacy  of  the  natural  means,  by  which  the 
astonishing  work  was  accomplished,  with  the  greatness  of 
the  effect.  He  has  not  the  remotest  reference  to  the  com- 
mon ability  of  man  to  do  the  will  of  God,  to  lead  a  life  of 
obedience  and  holiness. 

'  The  inability  of  man,  by  whatever  name  we  call  it,  is 
no  greater  in  the  affairs  of  religion  than  in  any  other  case, 
except  so  far  as  it  is  the  consequence  of  his  own  peculiar 
depravity.  If,  indeed,  it  were  an  original,  total,  and  uni- 
versal incapacity  for  religion,  —  if  there  were  in  us  no 
powers  which  could  be  called  into  exercise  by  the  various 
means  of  grace  afforded  us,  no  natural  capacity  of  being 
affected  by  the  motives  presented  to  us,  —  the  whole 
system  of  facts,  doctrines,  promises,  and  threatenings  in  the 
Gospel,  were  a  cumbrous  and  unnecessary  provision,  and 
God  has  taken  the  superfluous  care  to  persuade  us  to  exert 
ourselves,  and  strive  for  that  which,  by  a  single  motion  of 
his  will,  he  might  have  done  for  us  instantly,  effectually, 
completely,  and  which,  according  to  the  theories  of  some 
Christians,  he  must  still  do  for  us,  by  the  extraordinary  and 
irresistible  operation  of  his  Spirit.' 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

ORDINATION    OF    MR.   PARKER,    AT    PORTSMOUTH. DR.    BUCK- 

minster's   friendship  for  him. — J.  s.  buckminster's 

HOUSEKEEPING    WITH     HIS     SISTER    IN    BOSTON. LETTERS 

FROM    DRS.  SPEAGUE,    PIERCE,    AND   ABBOT. DR.  WORCES- 
TER. 

1808.  There  were  other  interesting  occurrences 

^^  of  the  year  1808,  which  have  been  omitted, 

because  it  was  desirable  to  present  the  sketch,  how- 
ever imperfect  it  may  be,  of  the  beginning  of  the 
Unitarian  controversy,  and  the  participation  that  Mr. 
Buckminster  had  in  preparing  the  way  for  the  changes 
that  have  taken  place  in  society,  by  themselves.  He 
was  called,  indeed,  to  put  off  his  armor  before  the 
heat  and  burden  of  the  conflict  began.  Hitherto,  his 
profession  had  led  him  to  the  most  noble  and  interest- 
ing studies,  to  the  cultivation  of  the  best  sympathies 
of  his  heart,  and  to  the  unembarrassed  pursuit  of 
truth.  He  had  been  the  advocate  of  no  party,  and 
there  might  have  been  a  fear  that  his  mind  would 
have  suftered  by  a  too  exclusive  application  to  the 
studies  that  would  have  fitted  him  to  take  his  inevi- 
table part  in  the  theological  warfare  of  the  great 
struggle  that  was  just  beginning. 

Unitarianism  had  at  this  time   developed  only  ra- 
tional and  critical  powers.     It  had  been  an  intellectual 


360  ORDINATION    OF    MR.    PARKER. 

protest,  a  plea,  against  dogmatic  theology.  It  had  not 
yet  touched  the  inward  springs  that  open  the  rich 
fountains  of  imagination,  of  devotional  fervor,  and 
Divine  Love.  His  was  of  that  class  of  minds  which 
would  have  soonest  felt  that  the  simple  faith  of  Uni- 
tarians is  most  intimately  united  with  a  depth  of  spir- 
itual feeling,  a  height  of  sublime  devotion,  and  a  divine 
beauty  of  character,  unsurpassed  by  any  other  faith  ; 
and  his  sermons,  as  well  as  the  numerous  prayers  that 
he  has  left,  show  that  he  already  knew  and  felt  that 
union. 

The  year  1808  was  also  fraught  with  deep  interest 
to  Dr.  Buckminster,  in  his  more  retired  circle  of  duties 
in  Portsmouth.  There  had  always  existed  an  inti- 
mate connection  between  the  north  and  south  parishes 
in  that  place.  Dr.  Haven,  the  venerable  pastor  of  the 
south  parish,  had  died  in  1SU6.  He  had  been  like  a 
father  to  Mr.  Buckminster,  when  he  first  came,  a 
stranger,  to  Portsmouth,  and  there  had  ever  continued 
a  close  and  intimate  ministerial  union  between  them. 
•In  1808,  the  Rev.  Nathan  Parker  was  invited  to  settle 
over  the  south  church,  and  his  ordination  took  place 
in  the  September  of  that  year. 

Mr.  Parker  was  of  the  new  or  liberal  school  of 
theology,  and  Dr.  Buckminster,  as  we  have  seen,  had 
become  more  strictly  orthodox  as  he  advanced  in  life. 
But  one  of  the  most  valuable  traits  of  Mr.  Parker's 
character  was  honesty,  —  honesty  in  the  fullest  and 
most  honorable  sense  of  the  word.  'He  was  imbued 
with  a  love  of  truth,  exhibiting  itself  in  singleness  of 
purpose  and  sincerity  of  manner.  There  was  no  ap- 
pearance of  guile  in  him ;  he  did  nothing  for  effect. 
He  was  direct  and  independent.'     He  had  also  the 


DR.   BTTCKMINSTER's    FRIENDSHIP    FOR   HIM.  361 

deepest  religions  convictions,  and  the  utmost  sincerity 
of  love  to  his  Divine  Master.  Dr.  Bnckminster  could 
not  fail  instantly  to  appreciate  these  noble  qualities,  so 
congenial  also  to  his  own  feelings  of  truth.  They 
met  therefore  with  conscious  sincerity,  with  full  and 
entire  confidence.  By  an  open  and  frank  avowal  of 
his  sentiments,  Mr.  Parker  secured  the  lively  esteem 
of  Dr.  Buckminster,  and  every  succeeding  interview 
only  served  to  strengthen  the  attachment  of  the  one, 
and  the  almost  filial  reverence  and  respect  of  the 
other.  Dr.  B.  was  absent  at  the  ordination  of  Mr. 
Parker,  and  took  no  part  in  the  services.  But  '  I 
rejoice,'  said  he,  '  that  the  South  Parish  have  such  a 
minister  ;  he  is  an  honest  young  man,  devoted  to  his 
profession  ;  he  will  be  a  staff  to  me  in  my  declining 
years.'  And  they  ever  lived  together  like  intimate 
and  confidential  friends. 

The  widow  of  one  of  the  deacons  of  the  south 
church,  having  heard  whispers  of  heresy  against  '  the 
new  young  man,'  waited  upon  Dr.  Buckminster  as 
soon  as  he  returned  from  the  journey,  and  asked  him 
if  she  had  not  better  leave  the  heretical  minister  and 
join  his  own  church,  where  she  would  hear  a  sounder 
doctrine.  '  Stay  where  you  are,'  said  he ;  'if  you 
practise  as  well  as  Mr.  Parker  preaches,  you  will  not 
need  to  go  any  where  else.' 

The  union  of  the  two  parishes  continued  uninter- 
rupted. The  two  pastors,  the  elder  and  the  younger, 
were  usually  companions  at  all  ministers'  meetings, 
ordinations,  and  occasions  of  professional  excursion  ; 
and  Dr.  Buckminster  always  came  home  exhilarated 
by  the  cheerful  intercourse  of  a  younger  and  fresher 
mind.  Certainly  the  acquisition  of  such  a  friend  and 
31 


362  PRESIDENT    APPLETON. 

companion  as  Mr.  Parker  contributed  more  to  his  hap- 
piness, in  the  few  remaining  years  of  his  life,  than 
any  other  circumstance  that  attended  them.  Theirs 
was  a  beautiful  example  of  a  union  in  the  spirit  of 
their  Master,  which  merged  all  speculative  differences 
of  opinion  in  a  superior  love  to  him,  and  attachment 
to  his  cause. 

The  year  preceding  the  settlement  of  Mr.  Parker, 
the  circle  of  his  ministerial  associates  and  friends  had 
been  much  weakened  by  the  removal  of  Dr.  Appleton 
from  Hampton  to  become  the  President  of  Bowdoin 
College,  thus  depriving  the  Piscataqua  Association  of 
one  of  its  most  distinguislied  members,  and  Dr.  Buck- 
minster  of  the  cordial  intercourse  of  a  beloved  friend. 
The  diversity  of  opinion  and  unity  of  feeling  in  that 
Association  has  been  already  mentioned ;  but  Dr. 
Buckminster  and  Dr.  Appleton  were  not  only  united 
in  the  bonds  of  a  warm  personal  regard,  but  in  specu- 
lative opinion  they  came  as  near  as  any  two  minds  of 
different  mental  endowment  could  come,  to  the  same 
views  of  controverted  subjects.  Tliey  were  both 
impressive  preachers,  but  they  differed  extremely  in 
their  mode  of  delivering-  truth.  Dr.  Appleton  was 
never  impassioned,  but  he  imparted  to  his  sermons 
the  force  of  his  own  convictions,  and  his  eloquence 
and  his  arguments  were  irresistibly  convincing  to  the 
understanding.  Dr.  Buckminster's  sermons  were  rarely 
argumentative  ;  his  manner  was  imj)assioned,  his  elo- 
quence persuasive,  rather  tending  to  excite  emotion 
and  alarm  conscience,  than  to  place  the  subject  within 
the  grasp  of  the  intellect. 

These  two  friends  spent  much  time  together,  and, 
after  their  separation,  kept  up  a  frequent  intercourse 


DR.    BUCKMINSTEr's    RELIGIOUS    IMPRESSIONS.  363 

by  letter.     It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  correspondence 
was  not  preserved. 

There  may  appear  to  the  reader  some  discrepancy 
and  inconsistency  in  the  accounts  that  have  been 
given  of  Dr.  Biickminster's  feelings  at  different  times 
with  regard  to  his  own  religious  views.  It  may  ap- 
pear somewhat  surprising,  that,  after  being  acquainted 
with  so  much  diversity  of  opinion  in  the  Piscataqua 
Association,  he  should  have  regarded  his  son's  devia- 
tion from  orthodox  views  with  so  much  surprise  and 
displeasure ;  and  again,  that,  at  a  later  period,  he 
should  have  looked  upon  Mr.  Parker's  vsettlement  with 
so  much  leniency,  if  not  complacency.  It  must  be 
remembered  that  it  was  only  upon  two  points  that  his 
son's  heresy  excited  surprise  :  the  denial  of  the  Trin- 
ity, the  assertion  of  the  inferiority  of  the  Son  to  the 
Father,  and,  consequently,  an  inadequate  atonement 
for  sin.  In  his  father's  words,  —  '  He  did  not  be- 
lieve the  proper  Deity  and  Divinity  of  Christ,  nor  his 
vicarous  satisfaction  and  atonement  for  the  sins  of 
men.' 

It  does  not  appear,  and  I  believe  it  is  a  fact,  that 
there  was  no  denial  of  the  Trinity  in  the  Piscataqua 
Association  before  the  introduction  of  Mr.  Parker  into 
its  number.  If  there  had  been,  his  settlement  would 
not  have  been  discussed  and  opposed  as  it  was,  by 
some  members  of  the  Association.  It  was  also  Mr. 
Parker's  noble  personal  character,  his  unusual  talents 
and  graces  as  a  minister,  that  won  Dr.  Buckminster's 
warmest  esteem  and  friendship  before  he  was  settled 
in  the  South  Parish  in  Portsmouth.  Dr.  Buckmin- 
ster,  not  wishing  to  oppose  his  settlement,  and  being 
too  conscientious  to  take  a  part  in  it,  embraced  the 


364       DR.  buckminster's  religious  impressions. 

excuse  that  the  failing  health  of  one  of  his  daughters 
presented,  to  take  a  journey,  and  absent  himself  from 
the  ordination. 

Although  always  a  sincere  follower  of  Calvin,  his 
religious  views  were  greatly  modified  by  the  state  of 
his  health.  When  he  was  struggling  with  nervous 
depression,  his  religious  feelings  were  deepened  into 
gloomy  views  of  sin,  and  of  the  depravity  of  the 
heart,  and  the  un worthiness  of  man. 

At  the  time  his  son  was  beginning  to  preach,  the 
life  of  his  beloved  wife  was  just  drawing  to  a  close, 
and  his  spirits  were  greatly  depressed  ;  while,  on  the 
contrary,  Mr.  Parker's  settlement  took  place  at  a  pe- 
riod in  Dr.  Buckminster's  life  when  he  enjoyed  an 
unusual  degree  of  health  and  freedom  from  depres- 
sion. Such  a  result  of  nervous  hypochondria  is  not 
at  all  unusual.  The  writer  is  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  case  of  a  lady,  who  is  subject  to  seasons  of 
great  nervous  depression.  When  she  is  in  good 
health,  she  is  a  decided  Unitarian ;  but  as  soon  as  her 
disease  returns,  she  is  overwhelmed  with  the  fears 
and  the  gloom  of  Calvinism. 

Soon  after  my  brother's  return  from  Europe,  he  had 
undertaken  the  task  of  housekeeping  by  himself.  He 
had  found  inconveniences  in  boarding,  and  the  parish, 
with  their  usual  liberality,  had,  while  he  was  absent, 
added  a  new  story,  and  thoroughly  repaired  the  par- 
sonage-house. He  furnished  his  rooms  with  a  fru- 
gality little  in  accordance  with  the  splendor  of  his 
library.  He  gradged  every  expense  that  was  not 
devoted  to  the  inside  or  the  outside  of  a  book  :  the 
latter,  indeed,  bore  no  proportion  to  the  former.     He 


THE    SISTER    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER,  305 

spent  little  in  elegant  bindings,  although  he  depre- 
cated the  avarice  which  should  diminish  the  mere 
luxury  of  literature.  He  soon  found  that  his  experi- 
ment of  housekeeping  involved  him  in  petty  cares 
and  vexatious  troubles,  which  none  but  the  feebler 
sex  can  bear  with  exemplary  patience.  His  incessant 
occupation,  his  nightly  protracted  studies,  and  the 
precarious  state  of  his  health,  caused  his  friends  to 
regard  him  with  trembling  interest,  and  excited  the 
most  lively  anxiety  in  his  father,  till  he  at  length 
yielded  to  the  incessant  solicitations  of  the  brother, 
and  consented  that  his  eldest  sister  should  join  him 
in  Boston,  and  take  the  place  of  the  head  of  his  fam- 
ily. He  hoped  that  having  a  sister  with  him  would 
insensibly  lead  him  to  relaxation  from  his  midnight 
studies,  and  induce  him  to  give  more  time  to  social 
and  domestic  pleasures. 

The  reluctance  of  Dr.  Buckminster  to  allow  his 
daughters  to  leave  the  retirement  of  home  has  been 
already  mentioned.  He  deprecated  for  them  the  for- 
mation of  a  taste  for  luxury,  and  for  the  elegances  of 
life,  which  he  feared  would  make  them  less  happy  in 
the  humble  and  simple  home  in  which  they  had  been 
born,  and  in  which,  as  he  thought,  they  were  des- 
tined to  live.  It  was  also  at  no  little  sacrifice  of 
daily  joy  and  comfort,  that  he  consented  to  the  ab- 
sence of  his  eldest  daughter  from  his  own  home. 
She  was  necessary  to  both  father  and  brother.  Could 
she  have  divided  her  disinterested  care,  as  she  did  her 
affections,  between  them,  there  would  have  been 
enough  for  both  ;  but  whoever  had  once  had  the 
happiness  of  her  presence  in  domestic  life,  could  but 
reluctantly  consent  to  part  with  her  again.  She 
31* 


366  FAMILY    LETTERS. 

brought  with  her  into  a  house  the  spirit  of  order  and 
perfect  arrangement.  Cheerfulness  and  tranquil  con- 
tentment entered  with  gentle  footsteps,  like  minister- 
ing spirits,  and  gladdened  the  roof  under  which  she 
dwelt ;  and  when  she  departed  from  it  the  sunlight  of 
quiet  happiness  went  with  her. 

.'  Not  learned,  save  in  gracious  liousehold  ways; 
No  angel,  but  a  dearer  being,  all  dipped 
In  angel  instincts,  breathing  Paradise  ; 
Interpreter  between  the  gods  and  men  ; 
And  looked  all  native  to  her  place.' 

A  short  extract  from  one  of  her  letters  will  show, 
that,  if  her  brother's  house  was  a  scene  of  more  varied 
and  more  intellectual  pleasures,  the  one  she  left  was 
not  without  its  tranquil  happiness. 

'  Our  family  have  never  been  so  well  as  at  present.  My 
father  is  in  good  heaUh  and  fine  spirits.  He  is  to  preach 
the  sermon  before  the  Female  Asylum,  at  Nevvburyport, 
and  also  at  the  ordination  of  Mr.  Thurston,  at  Manchester, 
and  will  probably  make  you  a  visit  in  Boston ;  this  last, 
however,  is  only  a  conjecture  of  mine,  so  that  you  must  not 
rely  too  much  upon  it.  The  lovely  M.  G.  has  been  passing 
a  few  days  with  us,  and  adding  to  the  charms  of  our  little 
parlor.  There  is  no  place,  I  believe,  in  the  wide  world, 
where  more  happiness  is  enjoyed,  especially  when  you  visit 
us.  We  are  all  in  perfect  health,  my  father  in  good  spirits, 
with  a  kind  parish,  good,  and  some  very  agreeable,  friends  ; 
we  are  above  all  want,  although  possessing  none  of  the 
superfluities  of  life  ;  the  little  children  are  good  and  improv- 
ing ;  cheerfulness  reigns  in  our  house,  and,  I  hope,  gratitude 
in  our  hearts.  Our  happiness  would  be  greater,  if  you  could 
be  with  us  oftener ;  but  we  please  ourselves,  as  soon  as 
you  are  gone,  by  anticipating  the  next  visit.     With  the  best 


CORRESPONDENCE.  367 

wishes  that  the  heart  can  dictate,  or  the  pen  express,  I  am 

your  aflectionate  sister, 

'L.  M.  B.' 

Of  the  large  number  of  family  letters  that  passed 
while  the  brother  urged,  and  the  father  reluctantly 
consented  to  break  in  upon  the  union,  and  divide  the 
members  of  his  family,  only  two  or  three  are  insert- 
ed. The  father's  fears  were  prophetic.  The  family 
never  met  again  beneath  the  parental  roof  The 
whole  number  never  met  again  in  life  ;  and  a  most 
singular  fatality  divided  them  also  in  death.  Of  Dr. 
Buckminster's  twelve  children,  except  some  young 
infants,  who  are  buried  in  Portsmouth,  only  two  rest 
together,  —  Joseph  and  his  eldest  sister  repose  beneath 
the  shades  of  Mount  Auburn.  The  graves  of  the 
others  are  scattered  over  New  England. 

The  old  parsonage-house,  in  Portsmouth,  with  noth- 
ing attractive  in  its  exterior,  with  no  architectural 
beauty,  small  and  inconvenient  in  its  rooms,  dark  and 
shaded  in  its  aspect,  is  yet  filled  with  touching  memo- 
ries. Its  low-roofed  rooms  are  yet  eloquent  to  one 
heart.  Every  beam  has  witnessed  the  prayers  of  the 
father.  Angel  faces  look  back,  sweet,  youthful  voices 
echo  through  its  silent  rooms,  and  every  beloved 
name  is  covered  with  the  flowers  of  memory.  The 
thousand  silken  ties  that  bind  families  together  in 
their  youth  are  like  the  gossamer  webs  which  lie  so 
thick  upon  the  grass  in  a  summer's  morning ;  —  they 
must  be  steeped  in  the  dew  of  tears  before  they  are 
perceived  in  all  their  rainbow  colors. 

'  January,  1808. 

'  My  dear  Father,  —  Though  I  have  often  had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  about  you,  I  really  cannot   recollect 


368  CORRESPONDENCE. 

when  I  last  received  a  letter  from  you.  Mr.  Emerson 
has  told  me  that  he  found  you  well,  both  in  body  and  mind. 
Being  absent,  I  hear  of  your  estate  ;  and  under  the  terms  of 
mind,  body,  and  estate,  is  comprehended,  in  the  English 
liturgy,  all  for  which  we  can  pray  when  we  remember  our 
friends  at  the  Throne  of  Grace.  In  the  last  two  of  these,  I 
am,  by  God's  blessing,  sufficiently  prosperous  ;  at  least,  my 
health  is  as  good  as  I  can  expect,  and  my  estate  far  better 
than  I  deserve.  As  to  my  mind,  I  doubt  not  you  pray  that 
it  may  be  seasoned  with  grace  and  knowledge  ;  I  hope  your 
prayers  will  be  heard. 

'  As  to  the  subject  of  my  being  married,  I  go  so  little 
into  the  company  of  young  people,  that  I  hardly  think  of  it. 
I  must  be  allowed  to  wait  till  something  offers  that  attracts 
me  spontaneously,  and  that  is  truly  eligible.  I  shall  never 
set  out  coolly  in  the  pursuit  of  a  wife.  My  present  situation 
I  believe  not  injurious  to  my  ministerial  character.  If  I  am 
deficient  in  some  of  the  private  sympathies  of  a  pastor,  I 
hope  I  shall  be  enabled  to  make  amends  as  a  public  in- 
structor. 

'  Do  not  leave  me  without  hope  of  the  presence  and 
solace  of  one  of  my  sisters.  Think,  my  dear  sir,  how 
solitary  you  would  feel  could  you  not  hear  the  voices  of 
your  children,  and  the  echo  of  footsteps  beside  your  own. 
Spare  me  one  of  my  sisters.' 

'  Feln-iiary,  1808. 

'  My  dear  Father,  —  You  are  unwilling  that  either  of 
my  sisters  should  make  my  house  her  residence.  If  I  could 
perceive  the  shadow  of  an  objection,  or  that  it  could  be  in 
any  way  injurious  to  them  or  to  me,  I  would  not  urge  it. 
But  really  I  know  not  the  shadow  of  an  objection  upon  the 
score  of  delicacy  or  advantage.  One  of  them  would  be 
extremely  useful  to  me,  and  agreeable  to  my  friends.  I  sin- 
cerely hope  that  no  fancied  prospect  of  my  being  more 
easily  led  to  change  my  condition,  in  consequence  of  being 
left  alone,  will  have  any  operation  upon  your  decision. 


CORRESPONDENCE,  369 

'  E.  would  be  a  great  addition  to  my  comfort ;  let  her 
come  up  with  L.,  and  in  a  few  weeks  one  may  return,  and 
the  other  will  be  less  uneasy  at  being  left  alone.  On  the 
score  of  expense  there  is  no  objection.  I  do  not  find  that 
the  addition  of  one  or  two  makes  any  difference.  I  cannot 
do  without  one  or  the  other  of  them.  I  chatter  like  a 
swallow,  and  mourn  like  a  dove  upon  the  housetops 

'  I  find  the  labors  of  my  profession  do  not  diminish  with 
time.  I  ought  not  to  expect  they  should.  If  I  should  be 
blessed  as  the  means  of  doing  any  good,  T  shall  cheerfully 
submit  to  the  dispensations  of  Providence,  if  they  should 
even  compel  me  to  give  up  my  profession  for  ever.  I  trust 
I  am  prepared  for  any  result  of  my  malady. 

'  I  send  herewith  ten  copies  of  a  little  devotional  work, 
which  I  have  just  had  published.  If  you  know  any  young 
men,  to  whom  it  will  be  likely  to  be  profitable,  I  hope  you 
will  dispose  of  them.     Yours, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

To  which  his  father  answered  :  — 

'My  dear  Son,  —  I  pity  your  lonely  state,  but  I  think 
you  had  much  better  '  lead  about '  a  ivife  than  a  sister. 
It  is  not  my  own  interest  or  necessities  that  form  the 
ground  of  my  objection  to  your  sisters'  residing  with  you ; 
it  is  the  dread  of  their  being  allured  from  the  retirement 
and  the  regular  habits  of  their  father's  house  into  circles  that 
afford  food  for  their  literary  and  worldly  ambition,  of  which 
they  have  a  full  share  ;  and  this,  I  fear,  will  disqualify  them 
for  that  sphere  where  alone  I  would  wish  them  to  shine,  and 
give  them  a  distaste  for  those  enjoyments  without  which  it 
had  been  better  for  us  never  to  have  been  born.  God  has 
blessed  me  with  amiable  and  respectful  children,  but  I  have 
no  evidence  that  they  have,  any  of  them,  so  heard  and 
learned  of  the  Father  that  they  have  come  to  Christ.  I 
hope  God  has  much  happiness  in  store  for  them  ;  but  it 
will   never   be    found    in   worldly  pleasures,   or   ambitious 


370  MUSIC. 

pursuits.  But  I  must  yield  to  your  request.  One  of  your 
sisters  shall  go  and  spend  some  weeks  with  you,  and  there 
is  no  gallant  they  would  prefer  to  their  brother,  whenever 
it  is  convenient  for  you  to  come  for  them.' 

To  persons  of  different  religions  views  from  Dr. 
Buckminster,  it  may  appear  surprising,  that,  in  answer 
to  the  very  letter  in  which  his  son  expresses  snch 
entire  acquiescence  in  the  will  of  Providence,  as  to 
feel  himself  ready  to  submit  to  any,  to  the  most  ap- 
palling, consequences  of  his  malady,  his  father  should 
have  answered,  that  '  he  had  no  evidence  that  any  of 
his  children  had  so  learned  of  the  Father  as  to  come 
to  Christ. '  Certainly  his  son  had  come  to  the  spirit 
of  Christ  ;  and  where  else  had  he  gained  that  re- 
ligious submission  which  made  him  willing  to  give 
up  his  ministry,  his  studies,  the  objects  of  his  dear- 
est wishes  and  his  fondest  hopes,  if  it  should  please 
his  Father  in  heaven  to  lay  such  a  burden  of  afflic- 
tion upon  him  ?  It  was  not  stupidity,  for  he  had 
the  keenest  perception  of  the  consequences  of  his 
malady.  Certainly  it  was  not  a  proof  of  an  unholy 
ambition  to  be  willing,  if  it  so  pleased  the  Giver  of 
his  gifts,  to  descend  from  the  beautiful  aspirations  of 
genius  and  wisdom  to  the  lowest  state  in  the  con- 
dition of  intellect. 

As  soon  as  my  brother  had  obtained  the  permanent 
presence  of  a  sister,*  as  an  inmate  of  his  house,  his 
friends  remarked  the  increase  of  his  cheerfulness,  his 
freedom  from  care,  and  the  entire  confidence  with 
which  he  reposed  upon  her  love  and  faithfulness. 
This   added    a   charm    to    his    bachelor's   parsonage, 

*  Afterwards  the  wife  of  Professor  John  Farrar,  of  Cambridge. 


SUNDAY    EVENING    CONVERSATION.  371 

increased  his  acquaintance  with  the  younger  members 
of  his  parish,  and  his  house  soon  became  the  hos- 
pitable rendezvous  of  his  friends  from  Portsmouth. 
Music  was  still  his  chief  recreation ;  and,  after  his 
sister  was  with  him,  he  no  sooner  heard  of  a  dis- 
tinguished female  voice  than  lie  became  impatient 
till  he  could  persuade  the  possessor  of  such  a  treasure 
to  consent  to  come  and  accompany  him  at  the  organ  ; 
for  this  purpose,  the  instrument  was  removed  to  his 
sister's  parlor,  and  the  reunions  there  were  among  the 
most  delightful  in  Boston. 

The  gentlemen  of  his  parish,  and  others  of  his 
friends,  had  long  been  in  the  habit  of  collecting  on 
Sunday  evenings  in  his  study.  He  was  the  centre 
of  a  little  circle,  from  whom  he  received  as  much  as 
he  gave.  There  is  no  evening  in  the  week  when  a 
clergyman  feels  so  much  at  his  ease,  and  so  ready  to 
enjoy  social  pleasures,  as  after  the  labors  of  that  day 
are  over.  The  Sabbath  has  been  no  day  of  rest  to 
him,  but,  if  his  heart  is  in  his  profession,  it  is  one  of 
keen  enjoyment.  He  has  finished  the  work  of  the 
week,  and  there  is  a  pause  till  the  next  day.  The 
sermons  upon  which  he  has  spent  so  much  anxious 
thought,  every  other  day  of  the  week,  have  been 
preached ;  they  are  off  his  mind,  and  it  rises  with 
elasticity  from  the  pressure.  He  has  looked  down, 
too,  through  the  day,  upon  the  attentive  and  thought- 
ful faces  of  attached  friends ;  they  have  encouraged 
and  strengthened  him  by  their  respectful  attention 
to  his  gravest  counsels,  and  now  he  can  listen  and 
learn  from  them,  in  the  hours  of  mutual  and  equal 
confidence. 

There  were  a  few  gentlemen  who   scarcely  ever 


372  SUNDAY    EVENING    CONVERSATION. 

omitted  a  Sunday  evening's  visit.  Among  those  who 
honored  him  the  most  frequently  with  their  presence 
were  the  Hon.  Samuel  Dexter,  Judge  Parker  and 
Judge  Hall,  James  Savage,  William  Wells,  etc.  Their 
host  thought  their  conversation  sufficiently  interest- 
ing, on  one  of  these  evenings,  to  preserve  notes  of 
it  in  his  journal. 

'  February .  Sunday  evening.  There  was  much  inter- 
esting conversation  on  the  natural  probability  of  the  future 
existence  of  man.  "  Why,"  says  Mr.  Dexter,  "  may  not 
death  be  merely  a  crisis  in  one's  existence  }  Analogy  in 
the  chrysalis,  etc.,  —  reproduction  of  plants  annually." 
Objection  :  They  are  not  the  same  plants,  but  a  succession 
of  different  individuals.     Perennials,  which  die  and  revive 

not"  again,  are  a  counter  analogy.     Qw^re,  from ,  about 

consciousness,  whether  it  is  necessary  to  constitute  personal 
identity  ?  It  cannot  be.  Is  it,  then,  a  sufficient  argument 
to  encourage  us  to  virtue,  that  we  are  promoting  the  hap- 
piness of  a  being  which  shall  have  no  consciousness  of 
what  has  been  done  here  ?     "  Why  may  it  not  be  said," 

remarked ,  "  if  consciousness  do  not  constitute  identity, 

that,  by  behaving  well  here,  you  are  adding  one  to  the  list 
of  happy  beings  hereafter,  but  one  who  is  no  more  yourself 
than  Alexander  ?  " 

'  Mr.  .     "  Is  not  the   mode  in  which  men  learn  to 

admire  the  works  of  the  great  masters,  Raphael,  Michael 
Angelo,  precisely  similar  to  the  mode  in  which  the  pathetic 
affections  must  be  generated  ?  By  continual  study  to  gene- 
rate these  feelings,  and  by  familiar  and  uninterrupted 
acquaintance,  lest  the  taste  acquired  be  lost  by  other  pur- 
suits ?  The  religious  affections,  when  in  their  highest  state, 
are  delicate  and  retired,  like  the  internal  admiration  of  an 

artist   for   a   wonderful  work,"     Mr.   .     "  Sir   Joshua 

Reynolds  says,  if  you  relish  not  Homer  and  Virgil,  read 


LETTEK    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGTTE.  373 

them  till  you  do,  and  do  not  suspect  the  whole  world  has 
been  deceived  in  their  admiration." 

'  Mr.  .     "  Why  was  not  Jesus  married,  to  set  us  an 

example  of  the  duties  of  that  state  ?  "  Answer.  It  would 
have  been  inconsistent  with  the  nature  of  his  life  and  mis- 
sion.    Mr.  D.     "  Was  the  recommendation  of  celibacy  in 

the   Church    from    his    example  ?  "     Mr.   related   the 

speech  of  Lord  Chatham  upon  the  subject  of  the  king's 
speech,  —  an  admirable  imitation.  Mr.  D.  expatiated  upon 
the  character  of  Washington,  and  told  anecdotes  of  his 
reserve  and  dulness  in  conversation,  and  asked  whether 
invention  be  a  faculty  necessary  to  constitute  a  great  man. 

'  Mr.   asked,    "  Is    there    any    connection    between 

different  views  of  religion  and  the  state  of  the  affections  ?  " 

"Is  there,  in  fact,"  said  ,  "  any  ^difference,  except  in 

degree,  between  the  moral  characters  of  men  who  are 
accounted  religious  ?  "  This  is  the  most  difficult  question 
in  religion.  What  is  the  nature  of  true  virtue  ?  "  How 
strange  it  is,"  said  D.,  "that  the  first  principles  in  morals 
should  be  so  obscure  !  "  Is  there  any  real  difference  in  kind 
between  the  religion  of  Dr.  Doddridge  and  Dr.  Lardner,  for 
instance?  or  does  the  difference  i-esult  from  natural  temper- 
ament.? The  question  is  not  to  be  determined  by  particular 
examples,  perhaps,  but  by  a  general  comparison  of  religious 
men  of  all  persuasions.  The  poetiy  of  Watts  and  Doddridge 
is  most  fervent ;  did  this  in  any  degree  depend  upon  their 
views  of  doctrine,  or  on  natural  temperament } ' 

As  this  was  the  period  of  my  brother's  short  life, 
during  which  he  enjoyed  the  greatest  vigor  of  body 
and  perhaps  the  most  effective  energy  of  mind,  I  am 
happy  to  be  permitted  to  add  the  testimony  of  a 
friend,*  then  young  and  enthusiastic,  indeed,  who 
visited  him  at  this  time. 

*  Rev.  Dr.  Sprague,  of  Albany. 
32 


•374  LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE. 

'  My  recollections  of  Mr.  Buckminster  are  exceedingly 
vivid,  as  well  as  somewhat  minute  ;  for  they  are  among 
the  most  cherished  recollections  of  my  whole  life ;  but  then 
you  must  bear  in  mind,  that,  when  I  knew  him,  I  was  but  a 
boy  of  fifteen,  and  1  never  saw  him  except  for  the  few  days 
which  I  then  spent  in  his  family.  I  will  tell  you  litei'ally 
every  thing  that  I  can  remember  concerning  him 

'  About  this  time,  Mr.  Abbot,  of  Coventry,  Conn.,  whose 
pupil  I  was,  in  consequence  of  having  declared  himself  a 
Unitarian,  was  arraigned  by  the  Consociation  of  Tolland 
county  for  heresy,  and  dismissed  from  his  charge,  and,  as 
the  phrase  then  was,  "  silenced."  He,  however,  refused  to 
acknowledge  the  jurisdiction  of  the  body  that  tried  him,  and 
continued  some  time,  by  request  of  the  parish,  to  ofRciate 
as  usual.  The  parish  and  himself  agreed  to  call  another 
council,  to  whose  adjudication  the  existing  difficulties  should 
be  referred ;  and  this  council  consisted  chiefly  of  clergymen 
from  Boston  and  the  vicinity.  Mr.  Abbot,  I  think,  more  to 
gi'atify  me  than  for  any  thing  else,  proposed  to  me  to  go  to 
Boston  and  carry  the  letters  missive 

'  It  was  by  no  means  among  the  least  important  of  the 
circumstances  which  I  anticipated  in  connection  with  my 
journey,  that  it  would  give  me  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
Mr.  Buckminster ;  for  besides  hearing  Mr.  Abbot  talk  of 
him  in  terms  of  unmeasured  praise,  I  had  read  his  sermon 
on  Governor  Sullivan  over  and  over,  with  the  greatest  admi- 
ration, so  that  I  could  repeat  large  portions  of  it.  Mr.  Abbot 
gave  me  a  letter  to  him,  and  directed  me  to  call  upon  him 
immediately  on  my  arrival  in  Boston.  Accordingly,  on 
reaching  Boston,  I  found  my  way  to  the  Brattle  Street  Church 
parsonage,  and  was  met  at  the  door  by  a  gentleman,  dressed 
in  a  sort  of  gray  frock-coat,*  with  whose  appearance  I  was 


*  This  was  a  half-military  frock-coat  of  iron  gray,  which  he  had 
made  to  travel  in  during  his  journey  on  the  Continent,  at  a  time  when 
the  military  costume  alone  commanded  respect.    After  his  return,  the 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGTJE.  375 

exceedingly  struck,  of  whom  I  inquired  if  Mr.  Buckminster 
was  at  home.  He  said  yes,  and  asked  me  to  walk  in. 
After  conversing  with  him  for  some  time,  and  not  dreaming 
that  he  was  Mr.  Buckminster,  and  yet  wondering  what  more 
Mr.  Buckminster  could  be,  I  asked  him  if  I  was  right  in 
supposing  him  to  say  that  Mr.  Buckminster  was  at  home. 
"  O,  yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  he."  I  then  gave  him  my 
lettei',  which  he  read ;  and,  after  making  an  inquiry  or  two 
concerning  Mr.  Abbot,  he  told  me  that  I  must  come  and 
stay  with  him  while  I  remained  in  Boston.  I  asked  him  to 
excuse  me,  though  for  no  other  reason  than  that  I  feared  it 
would  be  indelicate  for  me  to  accept  the  invitation.  He 
said  he  should  not  excuse  me,  and  that  I  must  stay  and  make 
him  a  visit ;  that  he  would  show  me  the  town,  etc.  The 
short  of  it  was,  that  he  insisted  upon  sending  for  my  luggage, 
and  I  stayed  in  his  house,  in  all,  nearly  a  week. 

'  One  of  the  first  things  he  did  was  to  accompany  me 
to  see  Dr.  Lathrop,  to  whom  I  had  a  letter  (missive)  from 
Mr.  Abbot.  The  old  gentleman  came  out  of  his  study, 
wearing  an  immense  gown,  and  said  that  he  was  busy, 
writing   Dr.   Eckley's   funeral   sermon,   but    found    it  very 

difficult  to  get  into  his  subject I  think  it  was  upon 

leaving  Dr.  Lathrop 's  that  he  took  me  to  the  top  of  the 
Exchange,  which,  he  said,  commanded  the  best  view  of  the 
town  ;  and  then  he  pointed  out  to  me  various  interesting 
objects,  of  which  I  had  often  heard,  but  which  I  saw  then 
for  the  first  time.  He  wished  me  to  feel  entirely  at  home, 
and  to  stay  with  him  in  his  study  whenever  it  was  pleasant 
to  me  ;  and  I  assure  you  that  it  was  so  pleasant  to  me,  that 
I  was  little  disposed  to  be  any  where  else.  I  had  from  my 
childhood  a  passion  for  reading  eloquent  sermons,  and  es- 
pecially for  gathering  pamphlets ;  and,  having  found  in  a 
corner  of  his  study  a  quantity  of  pamphlets  stowed  away, 

embroidery  was  takea  off  the  collar,  aad  it  served  him  as  a  study 
coat  for  several  years. 


376  LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE. 

I  set  myself  to  examining  them.  When  he  saw  what  I  was 
about,  he  laughed  a  little  at  what  he  thought  my  odd  taste, 
but  told  me  to  keep  at  it  and  to  select  from  the  mass  for 
myself  whatever  I  cared  for ;  and  I  actually  took  him  at 
his  word,  and  selected  enough  to  make  a  large  bundle. 

'  Of  course,  my  most  important  day  with  him  was  Sunday. 
I  went  with  him  to  church  in  the  morning,  and  heard  him 
preach  and  administer  the  communion.  The  subject  of 
his  discourse  was  baptism.  It  was,  so  far  as  I  remember, 
entirely  of  a  didactic  character.  I  have  an  idea  that  it 
was  not  among  his  most  eloquent  productions  ;  and  yet 
every  thing  that  he  said  operated  upon  me  like  a  charm. 
The  tones  of  his  voice  have  not  ceased  to  vibrate  upon  my 
ears  to  this  day ;  and  I  often  try  to  render  my  impressions 
of  them  more  vivid,  by  an  attempt  to  imitate  them.  I  do 
not  remember  that  there  was  much  passion  evinced  in  his 
manner,  but  there  was  a  calm  dignity,  an  inimitable  grace- 
fulness of  attitude  and  gesture,  a  countenance  radiant  with 
intelligence  and  benevolence,  and,  above  all,  an  impressive 
solemnity  that  spoke  of  the  reality  and  the  depth  of  his  con- 
victions, such  as  I  do  not  remember  ever  to  have  witnessed 
in  the  same  admirable  combination.  I  recollect  that  he 
prayed  with  his  eyes  open,  elevated  at  an  angle  of  about 
forty-five  degrees,  and  perfectly  fixed.  I  had  never  seen 
the  same  thing  before,  and  it  was  then,  as  it  is  still,  a 
matter  of  wonder  how  he  could  do  it.  Tn  the  afternoon, 
he  preached  a  sermon  with  some  reference  to  the  death 
of  Dr.  Eckley,  which  he  wrote  while  I  was  with  him  in  his 
study,  but  which  I  did  not  hear  him  preach  :  I  heard  Dr. 
Griffin  at  Park  Street. 

'  After  the  second  service,  he  appeared  greatly  exhaust- 
ed  

'  In  the  evening,  Mr.  William  W^ells,  and  some  other 
gentlemen  whose  names  I  do  not  recollect,  came  and  passed 
an  hour  or  two  in  his  study,  and  he  took  his  full  share  in  the 
conversation. 


LETTER    OF    REV.    DR.    SPRAGUE.  377 

'  Though  I  remained  several  days  with  him  at  this  time, 
he  told  me  that  I  must  be  sure  and  come  and  see  him  again 
on  my  return  from  Beverly,  and  some  other  places  which 
I  had  occasion  to  visit.  I  assure  you  I  needed  nothing 
more  than  an  invitation  to  bring  me  back  to  him  ;  and  when 
I  came  back,  he  greeted  me  with  as  much  affection  as  if  he 
had  been  my  father.  On  tlie  morning  that  I  finally  left 
him,  he  handed  me  a  little  note,  which  he  asked  me  to 
deliver  at  Mr.  Wells's  bookstore,  containing  a  request  that 
he  would  give  me,  on  his  account,  a  copy  of  "  Griesbach's 
New  Testament,"  which  he  had  then  just  edited,  and  of 
"  Walker's  Key,  etc.,"  the  latter  of  which,  he  said,  was 
designed  to  aid  me  in  attaining  a  correct  pronunciation. 
Unfortunately,  my  old  horse  was  so  loaded  down  with 
other  treasures  that  he  had  given  me,  particularly  in  the 
way  of  pamphlets,  that  I  was  obliged  to  leave  these  more 
valuable  books  behind  ;  and  alas  !  they  were  sold  with  his 
library.'  * 

The  same  writer  adds  :  — 

'  It  might  seem  like  affectation  if  I  were  to  tell  you  how 
much  his  death  affected  me  ;  or,  indeed,  if  I  were  to  tell 
you  with  what  warmth  and  depth  of  affection  I  have  cher- 
ished his  memory  ever  since.  I  think  of  him  always  as 
the  most  lovely,  the  most  beautiful,  the  most  exalted  form 
of  humanity.  I  have  met  with  many  persons  who  cherish 
a  grateful  and  exalted  impression  both  of  his  gifts  and  his 
virtues  ;  but,  strange  as  you  may  think  it,  I  have  never  met 
with  one  who  seemed  to  love  and  venerate  his  memoiy  as 
I  do  myself.  I  confess  that  it  is  to  myself  somewhat  of 
a  mystery.  Doubtless  something  must  be  allowed  for  the 
influence    of    a    young    imagination,    and    for   some    other 

*  The  Greek  Testament  was  finally  recovered.     It  was  bought  at 
the  sale  of  Mr.  Buckminster's  library,  by  Rev.  Mr.  Huntington,  and 
cheerfully  relinquished  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Everett. 
32*    • 


378  REMINISCENCES    BY    REV.    DR.    PIERCE. 

peculiar  circumstances  attending  my  visit,  which  I  have 
not  mentioned  ;  but,  however  it  may  be  accounted  for, 
certain  it  is,  that,  to  this  day,  there  is  scarcely  a  name 
among  the  dead  that  is  embalmed  in  my  heart  amidst  such 
warm  and  grateful  recollections  as  the  name  of  Buck- 
minster.  I  have  never  hesitated  to  bear  this  testimony  to 
his  exalted  character,  though  his  religious  views,  I  suppose, 
were  materially  different  from  my  own.  His  published 
sermons,  however,  contain  little  to  which  Christians  of  any 
denomination  would  find  occasion  to  object.  I  have  in  my 
mind,  at  this  moment,  two  or  three  of  the  greatest  lights  of 
the  "  orthodox  "  pulpit,  who  have  pronounced  his  sermons 
quite  unrivalled  in  that  department  of  composition.*  Robert 
Southey  spoke  of  them  to  me  as  decidedly  among  the  finest 
in  the  language.' 

To  the  above  I  have  the  privilege  of  adding  an 
extract  from  the  diary  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pierce,  of 
Brookline,  written  at  the  time  of  my  brother's  death, 
and  expressing  the  prevalent  feeling  of  the  commu- 
nity. After  speaking  of  his  return  from  Europe,  Dr. 
Pierce  goes  on  to  say  :  — 

'  Flis  study  became  the  resort  of  the  first  scholars  among 
us ;  and  his  company  was  equally  sought  by  people  of 
fashion,  of  literature,  and  of  religion.  Every  society, 
whether  for  science,  humanity,  or  religion,  was  desirous 
of  enrolling  him  among  its  members.  He  was  a  member 
of  the  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences,  of  the 
Historical  Society,  of  the  Humane  Society,  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Charitable  Fire  Society,  of  the  Christian  Monitor 
Society,  and  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Bible  Society 
of  Massachusetts.    He  preached  an  acceptable  sermon  before 

*  '  The  gentlemen  referred  to  are  Dr.  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith,  of 
Princeton,  Dr.  Inglis,  of  Baltimore,  and  Dr.  Romaine,  of  New  York.' 


REMINISCENCES    BY    REV.    DR.    PIERCE.  379 

the  Female  Asylum,  which  he  declined  to  publish.  The 
last  sermon  that  he  wrote  he  delivered  before  the  Christian 
Monhor  Society.* 

'  He  was  principally  instrumental  in  inducing  the  Rev. 
Noah  Worcester  to  forsake  the  retirement  he  loved,  and 
come  into  the  vicinity  of  Boston  and  Cambi'idge,  where  he 
ceased  not  but  with  life  to  cooperate  with  the  friends  of 
peace  and  of  liberal  Christianity. 

'  Mr.  Buckminster  was  rather  below  the  common  size, 
muscular,  and  well  proportioned.  His  countenance  was 
extremely  expressive,  lighted  up  with  eyes  irresistibly 
fascinating.  His  manners  were  highly  polished,  but  per- 
haps no  person  was  ever  farther  removed  from  flattery. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  was  exceedingly  open-hearted,  and 
often  told  people  truths  which  would  hardly  have  been 
tolerated  from  any  other  person.  He  was  the  delight  of 
the  ladies ;  but  never  did  he  procure  their  favor  by  studied 
attentions,  and  perhaps  no  lady  ever  suspected  herself  to 
be  the  object  of  them.  In  small  circles,  he  was  usually 
sociable  ;  but  sometimes  he  would  appear  absent  in  com- 
pany, probably  from  the  circumstance  that  he  had  not 
completely  relaxed  his  mind  from  the  last  pursuit  in  which 
he  was  engaged. 

'  His  brethren  of  the  Boston  Association  will  long  re- 
member the  pleasure  and  instruction  which  he  never  failed 
to  impart  to  their  circle  ;  with  what  readiness  he  entered 
into  their  sympathies ;  what  light  he  cast  upon  their  most 
perplexing  topics ;  and  what  assistance  he  afforded  in  their 
most  embarrassing  situations. 

'  In  the  pulpit,  Mr.  Buckminster  ranked  among  the  veiy 
first  preachers  which  this  or  any  other  country  has  produced. 
His  sermons  were  written  in  a  style,  simple,  nervous,  per- 

*  He  was  also  an  honorary  member  of  the  New  York  Historical 
Society,  an  officer  of  the  Society  just  created  for  the  Improvement  of 
Seamen,  and,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  one  of  the  School  Committee 
of  Boston. 


3S0  REMINISCENCES    BY    REV.    DR.    ABBOT. 

spicLious,  adorned  with  captivating  figures.  It  was  impossible 
to  withhold  attention  from  him.  He  seemed  to  have  a  per- 
fect command  of  his  audience,  and,  as  occasion  required, 
he  could  at  once  excite  all  the  lively  emotions  of  the  soul. 
His  peculiar  excellence  consisted  in  portraying  characters. 
Hence  some  of  his  most  acceptable  sermons  have  been 
those  which  treated  of  the  characters  of  Peter,  of  Paul,  of 
Philemon,  and  of  Christ.  He  had  the  faculty,  as  a  preacher, 
of  interesting  those  who  would  be  interested  in  the  services 
of  no  other  man.  Under  his  preaching,  it  is  believed  that 
many  have  been  induced  to  attend  to  the  subject  of  religion 
in  earnest,  who  might  otherwise  have  been  slumbering  in 
indifference.'  * 

Tlie  venerable  clergyman  mentioned  in  the  letter 
of  Dr.  Sprague,  now  living  at  the  age  of  eighty,f 
writes  thus :  — 

'  No  person  could  become  acquainted  with  Mr.  Buck- 
minster  without  loving  him.  He  was  a  perfect  man.  On 
seeing  him  once,  his  image  could  not  be  blotted  from  the 
mind.  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  his  kindness.  Whc  i 
feeling  obliged,  by  my  situation,  to  give  the  Trinitarian 
hypothesis  a  thorough  examination,  I  wrote  to  Dr.  Kirkland, 
requesting  him  to  purchase  for  me  the  best  treatises  on  the 
Trinitarian,  Arian,  and  Socinian  hypotheses.  He  sent  in 
the  package  a  number  of  books  from  Mr.  Buckminster, 
having  his  name  in  them.  When  the  consociation  was  con- 
voked at  Coventry,  I  wrote  to  him,  requesting  his  advice. 
Afterwards,  at  Boston,  he  introduced  me  to  his  brethren. 
When  I  asked  him  if  he  would  be  one  of  a  mutual  council, 
if  one  was  called,  he  advised  me  to  invite  older  men  than 
himself.' 

*  From  the  diary  of  Rev.  John  Pierce,  D.  D.,  June,  1812. 
f  Rev.  Abiel  Abbot,  D.  D.,  now  of  Peterborough,  N,  H. 


LETTER   TO    DR.    ABBOT.  381 

The  answer  to  the  letter  referred  to  in  the  last 
extract  is  here  introduced  :  — 

'Boston,  Jan.  12th,  1811. 

'My  dear  Sir,  —  I  have  delayed  writing  to  you  till  the 
present  time  for  several  reasons ;  the  principal  of  which 
was,  however,  that  I  might  be  able  to  write  more  positively 
on  the  subject  about  which  you  are  most  interested.  It 
appears  to  me,  that,  if  you  are  compelled  to  call  an  ex  parte 
council,  it  should  be  composed  of  the  most  grave  and  ex- 
perienced men  you  can  procure.  I  presume,  from  what 
you  have  before  said,  that  Dr.  Dana  and  Dr.  Lee  could 
be  obtained  from  Connecticut,  and  these,  united  with  Drs. 
Reed  and  Sanger,  of  Bridgewater,  Kendall,  of  Weston, 
Bancroft,  of  Worcester,  etc.,  and,  perhaps,  one  or  two 
moi'e  from  this  town,  would  compose  a  sufficiently  large 
and  respectable  assembly.  I  find  that  Dr.  Pierce,  of  Brook- 
line,  absolutely  declines,  and  so,  I  fear,  would  Mr.  Channing. 
In  speaking  with  the  latter  on  the  subject,  his  impressions 
seemed  to  be  that  it  was  not  proper  to  send  to  ministers  so 
young,  or  of  so  short  standing  in  the  Church,  as  himself. 

'  If  a  vote  of  censure,  or  of  excommunication,  should  pass 
against  you  in  the  consociation,  I  presume  you  will  continue 
to  preach  and  minister  to  those  who  still  choose  to  attend 
upon  your  ministry  in  Coventry.  This,  I  think,  is  due  to 
their  attachment  to  you.  If  any  part  of  the  Ciiurch  remain 
with  you,  I  see  not  what  you  will  gain  by  the  calling  of  an 
ex  parte  council,  except  it  be  the  form  of  a  regular  minis- 
terial character,  and  you  can  best  tell  whether  that  is  of 
much  consequence  in  the  minds  of  your  friends  in  Coventry. 
If  the  council  should  be  thought  important,  perhaps  it  is  not 
immediately  necessary,  and  might  be  deferred  till  the  season 
is  milder.  I  wish,  that,  if  a  council  is  called,  it  should  be 
very  respectable,  and  that,  to  the  names  already  mentioned, 
Dr.  Osgood's  might  be  added  ;  but  nothing,  I  fear,  would 
persuade  him  to  leave  home  in  winter. 

'  I  am  faithfully  yours, 

'  J.  S.  B. 


382  NOAH    WORCESTER. 

'  P.  S.  If  you  wish  to  print  any  statement  of  facts,  I  will 
take  care  to  get  it  done  without  expense  to  you.' 

It  has  been  already  mentioned  by  Dr.  Pierce,  that 
Mr.  Buckminster  was  principally  instrumental  in  in- 
ducing the  venerable  Noah  Worcester  to  come  to  the 
vicinity  of  Boston.  The  writer  well  remembers  the 
surprise  and  enthusiasm  which  her  brother  expressed 
at  the  first  appearance  of  '  Bible  News,'  and  the 
sanguine  hope  he  felt  that  it  would  aid  the  cause  of 
free  inquiry,  and  ultimately  of  truth.  When  its 
author  first  visited  Boston,  he  was  the  welcome  guest 
of  his  young  friend  at  the  parsonage,  and  both  Joseph 
and  his  sister  were  charmed  by  the  patriarchal  sim- 
plicity, the  genuine  and  fascinating  urbanity  and 
good  sense,  of  their  guest.  My  brother  died  before 
Dr.  Worcester  could  remove  to  the  vicinity  of  Boston ; 
and  it  has  been  remarked  to  the  writer,  by  a  near 
relative,  that  he  was  overwhelmed  with  grief  at  the 
death  of  his  young  friend,  and  felt  that  much  of  the 
happiness  he  expected  from  his  change  of  residence 
was  gone. 

The  venerable  author  of  one  of  the  last  extracts 
speaks  of  the  general  character  of  his  attentions  to 
the  other  sex,  and  the  interest  with  which  he  was 
regarded  by  them.  Although,  in  God's  providence, 
he  was  never  permitted  to  form  those  intimate  ties 
which  are  so  necessary  to  hearts  fitted,  as  was  his, 
to  feel  every  tender  emotion,  yet,  had  he  lived  to 
reach  middle  age,  surely  to  him  would  have  been 
opened  that  fairest  page  in  the  book  of  life,  when 
every  duty  and  every  care  would  have  been  lightened, 
and  '  the  face  of  nature  made  radiant  with  the  light 


LETTER    ON    MARRIAGE.  383 

of  love.'  No  one  can  have  read  his  sermon  on  '  The 
Influence  of  Christianity  upon  the  Character  of  the 
Female  Sex,'  and  the  sentiments  scattered  every 
where  in  his  writings,  and  not  feel  that  he  had  the 
most  generous,  the  most  impartial,  and  the  most  true 
appreciation  of  the  nature  of  women ;  no  one  can 
have  remarked  the  frequent  pathos  of  his  expressions, 
when  speaking  of  the  sorrows  of  human  hearts,  and 
not  feel  that  they  were  derived  from  real  sensibility. 
A  passage  from  a  letter  to  a  young  person,  upon  her 
intended  marriage,  shows  how  fully  he  understood 
what  must  enter  into  the  union  to  form  a  happy 
marriage. 

'My  dear : — I  have  long  wished  to  find  time  for 

writing  you  a  letter,  more  valuable  than  mine  usually  are, 
upon  a  subject  extremely  interesting  to  you  and  therefore 

to  your  friend.     Mr.  has   impressed  me  in  the   most 

favorable  manner,  and,  for  what  I  have  not  seen,  I  am 
willing  to  take  your  word.  But,  my  dear  friend,  if  I  had 
not  every  reason  to  coincide  with  you  in  opinion  of  him, 
to  whom  you  have  given  the  rich  treasure  of  your  love,  I 
should  yet  say,  that  a  sincere  and  pious  affection  on  both 
sides  is  a  sufficient  ground  for  hopeful  confidence  in  this 
union.  Time  will  form  two  pure  and  amiable  souls  for 
each  other,  and  religious  principle,  under  the  smiles  of 
Heaven,  even  in  cases  where  superficial  observers  may  not 
see  any  peculiar  coincidence  of  character,  will  mould  your 
dispositions  into  an  harmonious  and  ever-increasing  unity 
of  feeling.  As  you  learn  each  other's  tastes,  views,  and 
principles,  the  love  and  fear  of  God,  mingling  with  your 
hopes  for  earth,  will  blend  into  a  beautiful  harmony  for 
eternity. 

'  You  have  been  tutored  in  one  of  the  best  schools  in  the 
world,   and   under   the    best   religious   influences.     If  you 


S8f 


ON    FEMALE    CHARACTER. 


should  be  married,  the  sphere  of  your  cares  and  duties  will 
hardly  be  enlarged,  though  the  sources  of  your  happiness 
will  be  multiplied.  You  will  not  indulge,  I  know,  in  great 
expectations  from  the  world  and  its  pleasures,  wherever  you 
may  live  ;  yet,  as  your  chiefest  joy  will  be  in  your  family, 
and  in  seeing  those  under  your  influence  blessed  by  your 
example,  you  may  expect  much  happiness  without  being 
disappointed.  May  God  bless  you,  my  dear  friend,  and 
bring  you  nearer  to  me,  to  increase  my  social  blessings, 
and  to  improve,  by  your  example,  the  often  feeble  virtues 
of  your  friend, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

An  extract  from  one  of  his  sermons  is  given,  to 
show  that  he  fully  appreciated  the  character  of 
woman.  He  is  addressing  the  Managers  of  the 
Female  Asyhim  for  Orphan  Children  :  — 

*  Accustomed  more  to  retirement  than  to  active  life,  you 
have  more  leisure,  and  consequent  disposition,  for  religious 
contemplations.  It  is  also  infinitely  honorable  to  your  char- 
acter that  you  ever  feel  a  secret  sympathy  with  a  religion 
which  unlocks,  all  the  sources  of  benevolent  affection,  which 
smiles  on  every  exercise  of  compassion  and  every  act  of 
kindness.  We  may  say,  too,  that  your  hearts,  not  hardened 
by  the  possession  of  power,  the  pains  of  avarice,  or  the 
emulations  of  public  life,  are  more  alive  to  the  accents  of 
pardon  by  Jesus  Christ,  more  awake  to  the  glories  of  the 
invisible  world.  The  Gospel  came  to  throw  a  charm  over 
domestic  life,  and,  in  retirement,  the  first  objects  that  it 
found  were  mothers  and  their  children.  It  came  to  bind  up 
the  broken-hearted,  and,  for  that  oflice,  woman  was  always 
best  prepared.  It  came  to  heal  the  sick,  and  woman  was 
already  waiting  at  their  couches.  It  came  to  open  the  gates 
of  life  upon  the  languid  eye  of  the  dying  penitent,  and 
woman  was  every  where  to  be  seen,  softly  tending  at  the 
pillow,  and  closing  the  eyes  of  the  departing 


SISTERLY    LOVE.  385 

'I  believe,  that,  if  Christianity  should  be  compelled  to 
flee  from  the  mansions  of  the  great,  the  academies  of 
philosophers,  the  halls  of  legislation,  or  the  throng  of  busy- 
men,  we  should  find  her  last  and  purest  retreat  with  woman, 
at  the  fireside  ;  her  last  altar  would  be  the  female  heart ; 
her  last  audience  would  be  the  children  gathered  round  the 
knees  of  a  mother ;  her  last  sacrifice,  the  secret  prayer 
escaping  in  silence  from  her  lips,  and  heard  only  at  the 
throne  of  God.' 

With  such  appreciation  of  the  tenderness  of  woman, 
we  must  regret  that  he  lived  unmarried ;  but,  during 
a  part  of  his  short  life,  he  was  not  unaccompanied  by 
the  truest,  the  most  faithful  and  single-hearted  affec- 
tion. The  sister,  who  was  so  fortunate  as  to  be  his 
guardian,  watched  over  him  with  more  than  a  sister's 
love.  In  the  attacks  of  his  malady  by  night,  hers 
was  like  the  instinctive  vigilance  of  a  mother ;  the 
wing  of  the  night-moth  was  sufficient  to  wake  her, 
and  bring  her,  like  the  mother,  to  the  couch  of  her 
sleeping  treasure. 

'  But  let  him  grieve,  who  cannot  choose  but  grieve, 
That  he  hath  been  an  elm  without  his  vine, 
And  her  bright  dower  of  clusleiing  charities, 
That  round  his  trunk  and  branches  might  have  clung 
Enriching  and  adorning.     Unto  thee, 
Not  so  enriched,  not  so  adorned,  to  thee 
Was  given  a  sister, 

In  whom  thy  reason  and  intelligent  heart 
Found  —  for  all  interests,  hopes,  and  tender  cares, 
All  softening,  humanizing,  hallowing  powcis  — 
More  than  sufficient  recompense.'  * 

*  Wordsworth. 
33 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 

SERMON    ON    THE    DEATH    OF    GOVEKNOR    SULLIVAN. LETTER 

ON    DUELLING.  BIBLE    SOCIETY. ADDRESS    BEFORE    THE 

SOCIETY    OF    t/^.  B.  K. THE    ATHENiEUM. 

1809.  The  chapter  begins  with  an  extract  from 

Aged  25.       the  journal  of  this  year. 

'  January  2d.  A  new  year  has  begun,  hi  looking  back 
upon  the  events  of  my  life  the  last  year,  I  perceive  little  or 
no  improvement.  Sure  I  am  that  my  stock  of  theological 
knowledge  has  not  been  increased,  though  I  have  reason 
to  hope  that  my  sermons  for  the  last  year  have  not  been 
inferior  to  any  preceding  ones.  In  the  trials  to  which  God 
has  exposed  me,  I  endeavor  to  discern  the  designs  of  his 
providence.  The  disorder  to  which  I  am  still  subjected 
ought  to  be  to  me  a  perpetual  lesson  of  humility  and  depend- 
ence. I  have  sometimes  thought,  that,  if  our  powers  and 
state  of  mind  in  another  world  depend  at  all  upon  the 
condition  of  the  intellect  when  we  leave  this,  I  should 
prefer  to  die  before  my  mind  shall  be  debilitated  by  this 
disorder.  May  this  consideration,  with  others,  tend  to  keep 
me  in  a  state  of  perpetual  willingness  and  readiness  to 
depart. 

'  My  greatest  trial  the  past  year  has  been  the  attack  upon 
my  selection  of  hymns  for  the  use  of  Brattle  Street  Church, 
I  cannot  but  think  it  insidious  and  impertinent.  If  I  have 
indulged  in  any  impi'oper  feelings  towards  the  supposed 
author,  I  pray  God  to  forgive  me.  At  least,  I  hope  they  do 
not  appear  in  my   reply.     I  have  hitherto  refrained,  and 


EXTRACT  FROM  THE  DIARY  OF  MR.  BUCKMINSTER.   387 

shall  refrain,  fi'om  reading  the  author's  rejoinder,  because, 
since  my  friends  tell  me  there  is  nothing  in  it  requiring  a 
reply,  I  know  not  why  I  should  put  my  tranquillity  to  the 
test  which  the  perusal  would  occasion.  As  to  the  principal 
and  most  important  charge  in  the  review,  of  undeclared 
alterations,  I  can  put  down  here  what  it  was  not  necessary 
to  tell  the  public,  that  I  did  not  know  of  them  till  they  were 
pointed  out  to  me  by  the  reviewer.  I  took  the  hymns, 
without  any  alteration  of  my  own,  from  the  collection  of 
Dr.  Kippis.* 

'  I  fear  that  the  state  of  my  affections  has  not  been  im- 
proved the  last  year ;  yet  I  hope  I  have  learned  some 
humility  from  the  public  and  the  secret  opposition  which 
has  been  made  to  me  as  a  minister.  May  God  make  my 
motives  pure  and  simple,  and  give  me,  this  year,  which  is 
now  beginning,  a  deeper  interest  in  the  religious  state  of  my 
parish,  and  less  concern  for  my  own  reputation.' 

In  January  of  this  year,  was  published  the  first 
sermon  which  he  ever  gave  to  the  press.  It  was  oc- 
casioned by  the  death  of  His  Excellency,  James  Sul- 
livan. Governor  Sullivan  had  been  one  of  the  most 
constant  and  zealous  of  his  friends.  He  was  chair- 
man of  the  Brattle  Street  Parish  Committee,  and  all 
his  intercourse  with  his  pastor  had  been  marked  by 
the  most  courteous,  considerate,  and  affectionate 
friendship. 

In  this  connection  is  introduced  a  letter  to  Governor 
Sullivan,  upon  the  subject  of  duelling.  The  cor- 
respondence arose  from  an  animated  conversation  at 
the  table  of  the  Governor,  in  which  the  subject  was 
discussed  and  defended. 

*  The  reference  is  to  a  review  in  the  '  Panoplist.' 


388  ■      LETTER    ON    DUELLINa. 

'My  dear  Sir,  —  I  know  not  whether  you  expected  a 
reply  to  the  letter  with  which  you  favored  me  yesterday 
morning;  but,  upon  reading  it,  I  am  strongly  tempted  to 
put  down  a  few  thoughts  on  paper,  and  should  have  done 
it  yesterday,  but  all  my  time  was  taken  up  in  preparation 
for  to-day.  By  sending  these  lines,  however,  I  have  no 
intention  of  drawing  you  into  a  troublesome  discussion  of 
the  question  of  duelling. 

'  I  thank  you  for  your  explanation  of  what  I  uttered, 
perhaps,  too  hastily,  —  that  I  would  knock  a  man  down 
who  should  insult  me  in  the  street.  How  far  it  would  be 
consistent  with  the  spirit  of  a  Christian  I  dare  not  say ;  but, 
at  any  rate,  I  meant  only  to  express  the  probable  effect  of 
strong  passion,  irresistibly  excited  in  a  mind  so  imperfectly 
regulated  as  my  own.  I  do  not  think,  however,  that  this 
affords  any  parallel  to  the  revenge  taken  in  a  duel,  because 
the  first  is  done  in  sudden  passion,  the  last  in  cool  blood. 

'  Allow  me,  also,  though  I  am  sensible  of  my  ignorance 
of  law,  to  question  whether  the  cases  you  have  stated, 
where  murder  in  defence  of  one's  reputation  is  softened 
by  our  laws  into  homicide,  are  parallel  to  that  of  the 
duellist,  who  deliberately  kills  a  man  out  of  regard  to  his 
own  reputation.  Though  it  is  permitted  to  kill  an  adulterer, 
the  act  is  justified,  I  conceive,  not  because  it  is  done  out  of 
regard  to  reputation,  but  because  it  is  a  provocation  which 

excites  immediate  passionate  resentment The  case 

is  the  same  with  a  woman  who  kills  another  in  defence  of 
her  chastity.  There  is  an  additional  reason,  too,  in  this 
last  instance,  to  justify  the  murder,  and  that  is,  that,  if  she 
had  it  in  her  power,  and  did  not  kill  the  man,  she  never 
could  prove  to  the  world  that  she  did  not  in  some  measure 
consent  to  the  act.  In  the  other  instances  which  you 
adduce,  when  a  man  is  killed  in  the  act  of  breaking  into 
your  house  in  the  night,  or  of  taking  your  purse  on  the 
highway  in  the  dark,  the  murder  is  palliated,  not  because 
it  is  committed  in    defence   of  your   property  ;   for  if  this 


LETTER    ON    DtTELLING.  389 

were  the  reason,  it  would  be  equally  justifiable  to  kill  the 
one  in  the  day-time,  and  the  other  when  he  offered  no 
violence,  or  craftily  picked  your  pocket  in  the  day-time. 

'If  duelling  were  any  redress  of  the  supposed  injury, 
(which  it  plainly  is  not,  because  the  chance  of  being  killed 
is  equal  to  the  injurer  and  the  injured,  and,  even  if  the 
offender  were  always  sure  to  fall,  the  other's  character  is 
not  cleared  in  the  sight  of  God  or  man,)  yet  I  conceive  that 
nothing  can  authorize  us  deliberately  to  seek  satisfaction  in 
the  blood  of  a  fellow-creature,  in  cases  where  we  ourselves 
are  the  unauthorized  judges  of  the  injury  received,  and 
where  there  is  no  standard  but  our  own  feelings,  or  the 
fickle  opinions  of  the  world,  by  which  the  injury  can  be 
estimated.  If  the  unauthorized  laws  of  honor  may  be 
allowed  to  create  exceptions  to  express  commands  of  God, 
there  is  an  end  of  all  laws,  human  and  Divine.  If  a  man 
may  redress  his  own  wrongs  by  killing  his  neighbor,  when 
he  cannot  appeal  to  the  social  compact  for  defence  and 
remuneration,  I  see  not  why  he  may  not  challenge  him  for 
not  taking  off  his  hat  to  him  in  the  street,  as  well  as  for 
insulting  him  more  grossly.  I  see  not  why  a  man  may  not 
make  his  own  notions  of  honor  the  standard,  as  well  as  the 
opinions  of  the  world  the  umpire. 

'  My  dear  Sir,  the  only  question  on  this  subject  is  this : 
whether  a  regard   for  our  own   reputation  is  sufficient  to 

justify  us  in  deliberately  taking  the  life  of  another 

When,  after  these  secular  reasons,  I  turn  to  the  spirit  of 
Christian  morality,  I  can  hardly  forgive  myself  for  proposing 
the  question.  Excuse  the  hate  and  inaccuracy  with  which 
these  lines  are  written.  I  presume  my  remarks  are  already 
familiar  to  your  own  mind,  and  I  must  request  your  indul- 
gence for  venturing  to  suggest  them. 

'  Yours,  with  friendship  and  respect, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

33* 


390  MASSACHUSETTS    BIBLE    SOCIETY. 

Ill  July  of  this  year  was  formed  the  Massachusetts 
Bible  Society.  The  public  were  prepared  for  it  by 
an  address  which  appeared  in  the  journals  of  the  day. 
The  first  Corresponding  Secretary  of  the  Society 
was  Joseph  S.  Buckminster.  The  address  was  writ- 
ten by  him  ;  it  was  circulated  very  extensively  in 
the  country,  and  was  afterwards  pnblished  at  some 
length,  with  distinguished  praise,  in  the  Report  of  the 
British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society.  A  few  extracts 
from  this  address  follow  :  — 

'  You  are  invited,  Christians,  to  lend  your  aid  to  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  Bible.  The  revealed  word  of  God  is,  and 
ever  has  been,  the  source  of  what  is  most  valuable  in  human 
knowledge,  most  salutary  in  human  institutions,  most  pure  in 
human  affections,  comfortable  in  human  condition,  desirable 
and  glorious  in  human  expectations.  Without  it,  man  re- 
turns to  a  state  of  nature,  ignorant,  depraved,  and  helpless, 
—  left  without  assurances  of  pardon,  and  lost  to  the  way  of 
recovery  and  life.  It  is  the  pearl  of  great  price,  to  buy 
which  the  merchant  in  the  parable  sold  all  that  he  had, 
and  yet  was  rich.  Without  this,  wealth  is  poor,  and  the 
treasures  of  ancient  wisdom  and  modern  science  a  mass  of 
inanimate  knowledge 

'  It  was  the  most  glorious  consequence  of  the  Reformation 
to  draw  forth  the  Book  of  God  from  the  obscurity  in  which 
it  had  been  kept,  and,  by  giving  translations  in  the  vernacu- 
lar tongues,  to  throw  open  its  treasures  to  the  people,  and 
thus  also  to  secure  them  for  ever  against  its  future  loss.  It 
was  the  unsealing  of  the  fountain  of  life,  that  its  waters 
might  flow  freely  for  the  healing  of  the  people.  We,  too, 
in  New  England,  ought  never  to  forget,  that,  to  preserve 
the  authority  of  this  Book  unimpaired,  and  to  enjoy  the 
privilege  of  a  free  conscience,  enlightened  and  emboldened 
by  its  truth,  our  forefathers  crossed   the   ocean  with   little 


MASSACHUSETTS    BIBLE    SOCIETY.  391 

more  than  this  volume  in  theii*  hands,  and  its  spii-it  in  their 
hearts ;  and  if  there  is  now  in  the  character  and  circum- 
stances of  their  posterity  any  thing  worth  preserving,  to  this 
Book  are  we  to  trace  the  good  which  remains,  and  to  look 
also  for  the  improvement  which  is  to  come 

'  He  who  "  came  to  preach  the  Gospel  to  the  poor,  to 
bind  up  the  broken-hearted,  to  preach  deliverance  to  the 
captives,  and  recovery  of  sight  to  the  blind,"  when  he  was 
reading  this  very  passage  out  of  the  Book  of  God  in  the 
Jewish  synagogue,  added,  "  This  day  is  this  Scripture  ful- 
filled in  your  ears."  Christians,  we  call  on  you  to  accomplish 
this  prediction  among  us,  by  sending  the  Gospel,  all  simple 
and  salutary  as  it  is,  wherever  it  may  be  wanted ;  —  to  the 
dwellings  of  the  poor  and  distressed  ;  to  the  huts  of  the 
distant  and  solitary ;  to  the  chamber  of  the  prisoner  and 
the  cell  of  the  criminal ;  and  last,  though  not  least,  to  the 
bedside  of  the  old,  whose   eyes,  dimmed  with   the   rheum 

of  age,  can  yet  spell  out  its  contents In  short,  if 

in  some  cases  we  can  only  prolong  the  pleasures  of  aged 
Christians  by  furnishing  them  with  more  legible  copies  of 
their  favorite  volume,  we  shall  not  lose  our  reward  with 
him  who  cannot  forget  the  gift  of  a  cup  of  cold  water  in 
his  name  to  one  of  his  little  ones 

'  The  influence  of  early  instruction  in  the  Scriptures  is 
sometimes  sufficient  to  form  the  destiny  and  give  the  color 
to  the  whole  of  life.  It  is  an  influence  of  which  many 
cultivated  and  uncultivated  minds  have  been  conscious, 
even  after  they  have  too  much  relinquished  the  good  habits 
of  their  childhood,  and,  among  them,  the  reading  of  the 
Bible.  The  want  of  this  Book  in  a  rising  family,  where 
the  parents  are  poor  and  indifferent,  the  children  ignorant 
and  rude,  and  left  without  the  chance  of  gaining  any  reli- 
gious ideas,  is  a  subject  of  serious  thought  to  the  philan- 
thropist, who  only  looks  forwai'd  to  the  character  of  the 
next  generation.  For  from  these  another  race  is  to  be 
propagated,  and  in  this  new  country  perhaps  other  and  vast 


392  ORATION    BEFOKE    THE    cf).    B.    K.    SOCIETY. 

regions  peopled.  Need  it  be  added,  that  the  Christian 
philanthropist  is  obliged  to  follow  these  fearful  consequences 
to  another  and  an  eternal  state  of  existence,  where  it  will  be 
too  late  to  instruct  those  we  have  neglected  here,  and  where 
our  charity  can  neither  ransom  nor  relieve  ?  ' 

In  August  of  this  year,  1809,  he  was  apjiointed  to 
deliver  the  Discourse  before  the  Society  of  Phi  Beta 
Kappa,  at  Harvard  College.  This  is  always  consid- 
ered a  distinguished  honor.  It  is  an  exhilarating 
occasion.  The  discourse  is  addressed  to  the  aris- 
tocracy of  letters  in  this  corner  of  the  world,  with  the 
talent,  learning,  and  beauty  of  the  neighborhood  for 
an  audience.  He  chose  for  his  subject,  '  The  Dangers 
and  Duties  of  Men  of  Letters.'  Read  now,  after  the 
lapse  of  forty  years,  it  has  all  the  charm  and  freshness 
of  a  composition  of  the  day. 

Some  passages  of  this  address  are  as  applicable  to 
the  state  of  our  country  now  as  at  the  time  when 
they  were  delivered. 

'  Is  there  a  man  who  now  hears  me,  who  would  not 
rather  belong  to  an  enlightened  and  virtuous  community 
than  to  the  mightiest  empire  of  the  world,  distinguished 
only  by  its  vastijess .?  If  there  is,  let  him  cast  his  eye 
along  the  records  of  states.  What  do  we  know  of  the  vast, 
unlettered  empires  of  the  East  ?  The  far-extended  con- 
quests of  the  Assyrian  hardly  detain  us  a  moment  in  the 
annals  of  the  world,  while  the  little  state  of  Athens  will 
for  ever  be  the  delight  of  the  historian  and  the  pride  of 
letters,  —  preserving,  by  the  genius  of  her  writers,  the  only 
remembrance  of  the  barbarian  powers  which  overwhelmed 
her.  To  come  down  to  our  own  times :  who  would  not 
rather  have  been  a  citizen  of  the  free  and  polished  republic 
of  Geneva,  than  wander  a  prince  in  the  vast  dominions  of 


ORATION    BEFORE    THE    (fi.    B.    K.    SOCIETY.  393 

the  Czar,  or  bask  in  the  beams  of  the  present  emperor  of  a 
desolated  continent  ? 

'  In  the  usual  course  of  national  aggrandizement,  it  is 
almost  certain  that  those  of  you  who  shall  attain  to  old  age 
will  find  yourselves  the  citizens  of  an  empire  unparalleled 
in  extent ;  but  is  it  probable  that  you  will  have  the  felicity 
of  belonging  to  a  nation  of  men  of  letters  ?  The  review 
of  our  past  literary  progress  does  not  authorize  very  lofty 
expectations,  neither  does  it  leave  us  entirely  without  hope 
for  the  lettered  honor  of  our  country. 

'  Our  poets  and  historians,  our  critics  and  orators,  the 
men  in  whom  posterity  are  to  stand  in  awe,  and  by  whom 
they  are  to  be  instructed,  are  yet  to  appear  among  us.  The 
men  of  letters  who  are  to  direct  our  taste,  mould  our  genius, 
and  inspire  our  emulation,  —  the  men,  in  fact,  whose  writings 
are  to  be  the  depositories  of  our  national  greatness,  —  have 
not  yet  shown  themselves  to  the  world.  But,  if  we  are  not 
mistaken  in  the  signs  of  the  times,  the  genius  of  our  litera- 
ture begins  to  show  symptoms  of  vigor,  and  to  meditate  a 
bolder  flight,  and  the  generation  which  is  to  succeed  us  will 
be  formed  on  better  models,  and  leave  a  bi'ighter  track. 
The  spirit  of  criticism  begins  to  plume  itself,  and  education, 
as  it  assumes  a  more  learned  form,  will  take  a  higher  aim. 
If  we  ai'e  not  misled  by  our  hopes,  the  dream  of  ignorance 
is  at  least  disturbed,  and  there  are  signs  that  the  period  is 
approaching  in  which  it  will  be  said  of  our  country,  "  Tuus 
jam  regnat  Apollo.''''  You,  my  young  friends,  are  destined 
to  witness  the  dawn  of  our  Augustan  age,  and  to  contribute 
to  its  glory.' 

One  other  passage  is  added,  upon  the  moral  defects 
to  which  scholars  are  exposed  :  — 

'  The  moral  defects  and  faults  of  temper,  to  which  scholars 
are  exposed,  are  not  peculiar  to  any  country.  It  is  every 
where  the  natural  tendency  of  a  life  of  retii'ement  and  con- 


394  ORATION    BEFORE    THE    tf).    B.    K.    SOCIETY. 

tcmplation  to  generate  the  notion  of  innocence  and  mora 
security  ;  but  men  of  letters  should  remember,  that,  in  the 
eye  of  reason  and  Christianity,  simple  unprofitableness  is 
always  a  ci'ime.  They  should  know,  too,  that  there  are 
solitary  diseases  of  the  imagination,  not  less  fatal  to  the 
mind  than  the  vices  of  society.  He  who  pollutes  his  fancy 
with  his  books  may  in  fact  be  more  culpable  than  he  who 
is  seduced  into  the  haunts  of  debauchery  by  the  force  of 
passion  or  example.  He  who,  by  his  sober  studies,  only 
feeds  his  selfishness  or  his  pride  of  knowledge,  may  be 
more  to  blame  than  the  pedant  or  the  coxcomb  in  literature, 
though  not  so  ridiculous.  That  learning,  whatever  it  may 
be,  which  lives  and  dies  with  the  possessor,  is  more  worth- 
less than  his  wealth  which  descends  to  his  posterity  ;  and 
where  the  heart  remains  uncultivated  and  the  affections 
sluggish,  the  mere  man  of  curious  erudition  may  stand 
indeed  as  an  object  of  popular  admiration,  but  he  stands 
like  the  occasional  palaces  of  ice  in  the  regions  of  the 
north,  the  work  of  vanity,  lighted  up  with  artificial  lustre, 
yet  cold,  useless,  and  uninhabited,  and  soon  to  pass  away 
without  leaving  a  trace  of  their  existence.  You,  then,  who 
feel  yourselves  sinking  under  the  gentle  pressure  of  sloth,  or 
who  seek  in  learned  seclusion  that  moral  security  which  is 
the  reward  only  of  virtuous  resolution,  remember,  you  do  not 
escape  from  temptations,  much  less  from  responsibility,  by 

retiring  to  the  repose  and  silence  of  your  libraries 

The  infirmities  of  noble  minds  are  often  so  consecrated  by 
their  gi-eatness  that  an  unconscious  imitation  of  their  pecu- 
liarities, which  are  real  defects,  may  sometimes  be  pardoned 
in  their  admirers.  But  to  copy  their  vices,  or  to  hunt  in 
their  works  for  those  very  lines  which,  when  dying,  they 
would  most  wish  to  blot,  is  a  different  offence.  I  know  of 
nothing  in  literature  so  unpardonable  as  this.  He  who 
poaches  among  the  labors  of  the  learned  only  to  find  what 
there  is  polluted  in  their  language  or  licentious  in  their 
works  —  he  who  searches  the  biographies  of  men  of  genius 


ORATION    BEFORE    THE    <f>.    B.    K.    SOCIETY.  395 

to  find  precedents  for  his  follies  or  palliations  of  his  own 
stupid  depravity  —  can  be  compared  to  nothing  more  ap- 
propriately than  to  the  man  who  should  walk  through  the 
gallery  of  antiques,  and  every  day  gaze  upon  the  Apollo,  the 
Venus,  or  the  Laocoon,  and  yet  bring  away  an  imagination 
impressed  with  nothing  but  the  remembrance  that  they  were 
naked.' 

The  whole  of  this  address  would  repay,  even  at 
this  day,  a  careful  perusal  ;  and,  though  forty  years 
have  passed  since  it  was  written,  the  age  has  not 
advanced  beyond  its  demands.  It  is  rich  in  eloquent 
thought,  and  sparkling  with  gems  of  poetry.  It  must 
be  recollected,  that  the  author  lived  and  died,  before 
the  appearance  of  those  magicians  of  our  age,  to 
whom  we  owe  such  treasures  of  delight ;  before 
Scott's  novels  had  given  to  history  more  than  the 
charm  of  romance  ;  before  Byron  had  found  such 
depths  of  tragic  element  within  the  human  heart; 
before  the  transcendentalism  of  Coleridge,  and  Words- 
worth, and  Channing,  had  become  familiar  forms  of 
speech,  and  Carlyle  and  Dickens  had  taught  us  to 
look  from  the  ruffled  and  spotted  plumage  of  society 
to  the  bleeding  heart  within.  Yet  truth  and  nature 
and  poetry  were  the  same,  and  the  study  of  them 
had  been,  to  him,  '  their  own  exceeding  great  re- 
ward.' There  was  nothing,  even  in  those  compo- 
sitions of  his,  which  were  written  just  as  he  emerged 
from  boyhood,  of  morbid  excess,  or  of  repining  sensi- 
bility; and  yet  there  was  that  in  his  prospect  of  early 
death,  or  of  a  worse  calamity,  to  which  they  might 
have  been  forgiven ;  his  habits  of  study,  his  devotion 
to  truth,  his  entire  reliance  upon  the  paternal  charac- 
ter of  God,  gave  him  a  perpetual  joy  in  the  intellec- 


396  LETTER    OF    PRESIDENT    EVERETT. 

tual  gifts  lie  had  received,  and  an  entire  acquiescence 
in  the  providence  which  should  call  him  to  part  with 
them. 

To  the  above  I  am  permitted  to  add  the  testimony 
of  one  whose  words  are  ever  chosen,  appropriate,  and 
weighty,  and  whose  genius  seems  to  the  writer  kin- 
dred to  his  who,  at  so  early  an  age,  made  so  deep  and 
permanent  an  impression  on  his  memory.  The  Hon. 
Edward  Everett  thus  recalls  his  impressions  of  the 
oration  in  question  :  — 

'  If  I  should  attempt  to  fix  the  period  at  which  I  first  felt 
all  the  power  of  Mr.  Buckminster's  influence,  it  would  be 
at  the  delivery  of  his  oration  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa 
Society,  in  August,  1S09  ;  at  which  time  I  had  been  two 
years  in  college,  but  still  hardly  emerged  from  boyhood. 
That  address,  although  the  standard  of  merit  for  such  per- 
formances is  higher  now  than  it  was  then,  will,  I  think,  still 
be  regarded  as  one  of  the  very  best  of  its  class,  admirably 
appropriate,  thoroughly  meditated,  and  exquisitely  wrought. 
It  unites  sterling  sense,  sound  and  various  scholarship,  pre- 
cision of  thought,  the  utmost  elegance  of  style,  without  pomp 
or  laborious  ornament,  with  a  fervor  and  depth  of  feeling 
truly  evangelical.  These  qualities,  of  course,  are  presei-ved 
in  the  printed  text  of  the  oration.  But  the  indescribable 
charm  of  his  personal  appearance  and  manner, —  the  look, 
the  voice,  the  gesture  and  attitude,  the  unstudied  outward 
expression  of  the  inward  feeling,  —  of  these  no  idea  can  be 
formed  by  those  who  never  heard  him.  A  better  conception 
of  what  they  might  have  been  may  probably  be  gathered 
from  the  contemplation  of  Stuart's  portrait  than  from  any 
description.  I  can  never  look  at  it  without  fancying  I  catch 
the  well-remembered  expression  of  the  living  eye,  at  once 
gentle  and  penetrating,  and  hear  the  most  melodious  voice, 
as  I  firmly  believe,  that  ever  passed  the  lips  of  man 


LETTER  OF  PRESIDENT  EVERETT.  397 

'I  will  only  add,  that  I  think  he  possessed,  in  a  greater 
degree  than  I  have  seen  them  combined  in  one  person,  an 
intellect  of  great  acuteness  and  power,  a  brilliant  imagina- 
tion, a  sound,  practical  judgment,  a  taste  for  literary  research 
of  all  sorts,  and  especially  for  critical  learning,  together  with 
an  elevation  of  moral  feeling  approaching  to  austerity,  (not 
in  his  judgments  of  others,  but  in  his  own  sense  of  duty,) 
and  a  devotional  spirit  rapt  and  tender  almost  beyond  the 
measure  of  humanity.  To  repeat  his  own  beautiful  quota- 
tion, in  the  address  above  alluded  to,  in  his  case,  if  ever 
among  men, — 

"  True  prayer 
Has  flowed  from  lips  wet  with  Castalian  dews." 

'  All  this  he  was  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  when  he  was 
taken  from  us.  Had  he  lived  to  the  ordinary  age  of  man, 
it  seems  to  me  that  he  gave  an  early  assurance  that  he 
possessed  those  intellectual  and  moral  endowments,  which 
would  have  made  him,  in  his  profession,  the  foremost  man 
of  his  country  and  time.' 

There  were  other  objects,  upon  which  much  of  his 
time  was  employed,  —  objects  of  utility,  that  brought 
to  him  neither  applause  nor  reputation.  Among  his 
papers  are  memoirs,  subscriptions,  and  prefaces  to 
books  and  proposals,  which  had  only  a  temporary 
interest,  and  have  passed  away  and  are  forgotten. 
Among  those  which  have  since  assumed  a  permanent 
and  increasing  importance  is  the  Athenasum.  His 
letters  have  shown  how  deep  an  anxiety  he  felt  about 
its  prosperity  and  inliuence.  In  this  year,  or  the  next, 
he  spent  much  time  in  assisting  to  arrange  and  classify 
the  library,  and  began  to  write  the  preface  to  the  pub- 
lished catalogue.  The  correspondence  between  him- 
self and   Mr,  William   S.  Shaw,   while    he    was   in 

34 


398  THE    BOSTON    ATHENJEUM. 

Europe,  although  previous  to  this  time,  is  introduced 
here.  It  will  show  how  entire  was  the  confidence 
placed  in  these  two  friends,  and  with  what  enthusiasm 
they  entered  into  the  business.  In  his  preface  he 
says :  — 

'  The  present  catalogue  will  exhibit  at  once  our  riches 
and  our  poverty ;  it  will  show  to  the  world  what  we  have 
amassed,  and  suggest  to  future  benefactors  what  we  yet 
hope  to  collect.  When  we  recollect,  that,  four  years  ago, 
this  institution  existed  only  in  the  hopes  and  projects  of  a 
few  reading  men,  and  that,  from  a  germ  almost  impercep- 
tible, it  has  grown  into  the  present  generous  establishment, 
we  can  hardly  repress  oui*  exultation 

'  If  the  time  should  ever  come,  which  we  fondly  expect, 
when  a  superb  structure  shall  be  raised  in  this  town,  wherein 
to  deposit  the  crowded  treasures  and  the  precious  collections 
of  this  literary  institution,  and  the  Historical  Society  shall 
consent  to  unite  our  common  possessions  upon  the  subject 
of  American  history,  we  shall  then  have  approached  nearer 
to  the  accomplishment  of  our  darling  object,  the  formation 
of  an  American  Library  worthy  of  the  country.'  * 

'Boston,  Dec.  1st,  1806. 

'Dear  Buckminstek,  —  I  know  you  will  be  delighted 
to  hear  of  the  progress  we  have  made  in  the  reading-room 
and  library,  which  has  much  surpassed  the  expectations  of 
even  the  most  sanguine  of  us.  We  have  one  hundred  and 
sixty  subscribers  at  ten  dollars  a  year,  consisting  of  the 
most  respectable  gentlemen  in  Boston,  with  the  probability 
of  having  two  hundred  subscribers  at  least,  the  moment  the 
rooms  are  opened.  We  have  taken  rooms  in  Congress 
Street,  in  what  are  called  Joy's  Buildings,  which  we  shall 
occupy  till  the  spring,  when  we  expect  to  be  able  to  procure 

*  The  above  extracts  are  taken  from  the  manuscript  of  the  preface, 
in  my  brother's  handwriting. 


LETTERS    OF    "WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  399 

more  commodious  rooms.  We  have  had  nearly  a  thousand 
volumes  of  valuable  books  presented  to  us,  and  one  hundred 
and  sixty  dollars  in  cash.  The  institution  is  a  very  popular 
one,  and  there  is  a  strong  inclination  discovered  to  patronize 
it  on  a  very  extensive  plan,  and  I  have  very  little  doubt  that 
in  a  few  years  we  shall  see  a  library  in  our  beloved  Boston, 
inferior  to  none  in  America.  If  we  do  not,  it  will  be  owing 
altogether  to  want  of  exertion  on  the  part  of  our  literary 
men,  whose  duty  it  is  to  awake  from  their  stupid  lethargy, 
and  to  rescue  our  country  from  the  scorn  and  derision  which 
now  lie  so  heavily  upon  her. 

'  We  propose  that  the  whole  property  of  the  institution 
shall  be  vested  in  a  number  of  trustees,  not  exceeding 
eleven,  seven  of  whom  to  be  chosen  from  the  Anthology 
Society,  the  remaining  four  to  be  gentlemen  out  of  the 
Society,  the  Trustees  thus  chosen  to  have  the  sole  and 
exclusive  management  of  the  institution.  Dr.  Kirkland, 
Mr.  Emerson,  Peter  Thacher,  Walter,  and  myself,  are 
chosen  from  the  Anthology  Society,  and  we  intend  to 
choose  your  honor  to  be  one  the  moment  you  come  home. 
Chief  Justice  Parsons,  Mr.  John  Lowell,  Mr.  Freeman,  we 
have  also  chosen,  none  of  whom  have  yet  made  known 
their  acceptance  but  Mr.  Parsons,  who  very  readily  com- 
plied with  our  request,  much  to  the  joy  of  us  all.  As  soon 
as  the  Trustees  can  be  called  together,  they  are  to  choose 
a  President,  Vice-President,  Recording  and  Corresponding 
Secretaries,  Treasurer,  &c.  Mr.  Parsons  is  to  be  chosen 
President,  Walter  will  probably  be  chosen  Corresponding 
Secretary,  and  your  humble  servant,  Recoi'der. 

'  In  drawing  up  the  regulations,  we  have  followed  very 
closely  the  laws  of  the  Athenaeum  of  Liverpool,  for  which 
I  am  greatly  indebted  to  your  kindness  in  transmitting  im- 
mediately on  your  arrival  at  Liverpool.  It  is  an  admirable 
institution,  and  we  intend  to  make  ours  as  much  like  that 
as  the  ditferent  circumstances  of  the  two  countries  will 
admit.     I  pray  you  to  make  it  an  object  to  collect  as  much 


400  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

information  as  will  be  in  your  power  respecting  all  literary 
societies,  catalogues  of  their  libraries,  their  laws,  &c.,  &c. 
They  will  be  pleasant  to  have  in  our  reading-room  at  least, 
and  they  may  be  made  useful  in  America,  to  stimulate  our 
countrymen  to  some  important  mental  exertions.  I  wish 
you  could  be  prevailed  upon  to  avail  yourself  of  the  ad- 
vantages your  residence  in  London  this  winter  will  afford 
you,  to  collect  information  relative  to  the  literature  of  Eng- 
land, their  colleges,  their  schools,  their  scientific  institutions, 
their  literary  men,  &c.,  &c.,  and  publish  a  series  of  papers 
in  our -dearly  cherished  Anthology  on  the  present  state  of 
English  literature,  which  I  am  very  certain  would  be  novel, 
interesting,  and  useful  to  the  people  of  this  country.  Write 
a  series  of  letters  from  England  to  us  in  America,  as 
La  Harpe  wrote  from  Paris  to  the  Emperor  Paul  the  First, 
of  Russia.  He  was  engaged  in  a  correspondence  with  the 
Emperor  for  five  years,  which,  since  La  Harpe's  death,  has 
been  published  in  four  volumes.  He  sent  to  the  young 
prince  all  the  literary  and  political  new's  of  Paris,  and  judged 
of  men  and  books  with  all  the  freedom  which  a  literary 
correspondence  admits.  The  work  is  wonderfully  inter- 
esting. It  will  be  read  by  men  of  letters  and  men  of 
fashion.  The  first  will  find  much  correct  criticism,  the 
second  pleasant  anecdote,  and  all  variety,  which,  you  know, 
is  always  charming. 

'  I  inclose  to  you  with  this  a  bill  of  exchange,  payable 
to  you,  and  drawn  upon  Samuel  VVilliams,  Esquire,  for  six 
hundred  dollars,  five  hundred  of  which  are  to  be  expended 
in  procuring  books  for  the  reading-room,  and  to  be  sent 
out  as  early  in  the  spring  as  possible.  The  intention  of 
the  Trustees  is  to  appropriate  the  money  arising  from  sub- 
scriptions as  follows  :  —  After  the  necessary  expenses  of  the 
institution  are  paid,  the  first  object  will  be  to  provide  for 
the  rooms  all  the  celebrated  gazettes  published  in  any  part 
of  the  United  States.  The  most  interesting  literary  and 
political    pamphlets    in    Europe   and   America,   magazines, 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  401 

reviews,  and  scientific  journals,  in  the  English  and  French 
languages,  London  and  Paris  newspapers.  Steel's  Army 
and  Navy  List,  Naval  Chronicle,  London  and  Paris  book- 
sellers' catalogues,  parliamentary  debates,  bibliographical 
works,  voyages  and  travels,  valuable  maps  and  charts. 
The  gazettes  and  pamphlets  of  our  own  country  we  can 
of  course  procure  without  troubling  you ;  but  we  wish  you 
to  take  such  measures  as  will  insure  to  us  the  early  trans- 
mission of  all  interesting  pamphlets  published  in  England 
on  important  subjects,  the  average  amount  for  the  year 
not  to  exceed  three  dollars  per  month  ;  that  is,  we  are 
willing  to  appropriate  thirty-six  dollars  a  year  of  our  funds 
for  English  pamphlets,  including  booksellers'  catalogues. 
If  your  friends,  Mr.  Sam.  or  Francis  Williams,  could  be 
persuaded  to  undertake  this  commission  after  you  leave 
England,  they  would  be  the  best  men  in  the  world  for  this 
purpose.  At  any  rate,  we  shall  depend  on  your  selecting 
some  person  of  judgment,  in  whom  we  may  confide  for  the 
punctual  discharge  of  this  part  of  our  engagement  to  supply 
the  room  with  English  pamphlets, 

'  English  magazines,  reviews,  &c.  These  publications  we 
have  thought  it  most  expedient  to  procure,  for  the  present, 
at  least,  through  the  agency  of  Mr,  William  Skinner,  an 
English  gentleman  connected  with  a  house  in  London, 
whose  card  I  inclose  you,  and  would  wish  you  to  call  upon 
them,  and  converse  with  them  on  the  objects  of  ihe  institu- 
tion, and  urge  upon  them  the  necessity  of  most  punctual 
communication.  I  inclose  to  you,  with  this,  a  list  of  all  the 
publications  we  have  ordered  from  England,  with  a  request 
that  you  would  order  any  others  you  should  think  proper. 
We  wish  particularly  for  Dr.  Aikin's  new  magazine,  the 
Athenseum,  Arthur  Aikin's  Annual  Review  to  be  sent  out 
in  numbers,  beginning  with  the  first  number  of  the  fifth 
volume,  and  indeed  for  all  the  distinguished  periodical 
journals  in  England,  If  you  think,  therefore,  that  we  have 
not  ordered  a  sufiicient  number,  you  are  at  perfect  liberty 


402  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

to  make  any  additions  you  please.  You  will  observe  that 
■\ve  have  only  sent  for  three  newspapers,  —  the  Morning 
Chronicle,  the  Courier,  and  BelPs  Weekly  Messenger, — 
which  are  as  many  as  we  thought  our  funds  would  allow 
of  at  present.  If  you  think  we  ought  to  have  one  more, 
you  may  direct  it  to  be  sent  out  to  us.  To  collect  valuable 
maps  and  charts  is  one  of  the  prime  objects  of  the  institu- 
tion, and  ought  to  be  immediately  attended  to.  You  will 
therefore  appropriate  a  part  of  the  money  sent  you  with 
this  (say,  perhaps,  one  hundred  dollars)  to  the  purchasing 
of  two  or  three  good  Atlases  of  standard  reputation. 

'  After  having  furnished  the  room  with  newspapers,  maga- 
zines, maps  and  charts,  &c.,  &c  ,  as  above  mentioned,  the 
second  object  of  the  Trustees  will  be  to  supply  the  library 
with  the  most  valuable  encyclopedias  of  the  arts  and 
sciences  in  the  French  and  English  languages,  with  stand- 
ard dictionaries  of  the  learned  and  modern  languages,  also 
dictionaries,  critical,  biographical,  &c.,  and  books  of  general 
reference  useful  to  the  merchant  and  scholar.  We  have 
already  procured  the  American  edition  of  Rees's  Encyclo- 
pedia, as  far  as  it  has  been  published.  We  have  also  had 
presented  to  us  a  superb  edition  of  Dr.  Aikin's  Johnson's 
Dictionary,  in  four  large  octavo  volumes,  by  my  friend, 
Joseph  Tilden.  Books  printed  on  the  Continent  we  can 
probably  purchase  cheaper  by  sending  to  Paris  and  Hol- 
land than  you  could  be  able  to  procure  them  in  London. 
I  should  not  therefore  advise  you  to  purchase  books  of 
this  kind ;  but  of  this  you  will  be  a  much  better  judge  than 
myself.  I  merely  mention  it  by  way  of  suggestion,  leaving 
it  entirely  to  your  discretion.  Some  of  the  money,  I  should 
think,  ought  to  be  appropriated  to  purchase  standard  works 
upon  commerce  and  books  of  useful  reference  to  the  mer- 
chants, as  most  of  our  subscribers  are  of  this  class.  Mr. 
Samuel  Williams  could  recommend  to  you  some  books  of 
this  kind.  There  is  a  work  on  this  subject  reviewed  in  the 
sixteenth   number   of   the    Edinburgh   Review,   entitled,   I 


LETTERS  OF  WILLIAM  S.  SHAW.  403 

believe,  Macpherson's  Annals  of  Commerce,  which  I  should 
think  we  ought  to  have.  You  ought  to  send  us  out  also 
some  miscellaneous  books,  useful  to  the  loungers,  —  such, 
perhaps,  as  a  complete  edition  of  the  English  classics,  such 
as  the  Spectator,  Guardian,  &c.,  wuh  Drake's  Essays  on 
these  periodical  writers,  &c.,  &c.  The  books  you  purchase 
must  be  all  good  editions,  printed  on  good  paper,  and  well 
bound ;  but  take  care  not  to  be  too  extravagant,  I  have 
thus,  my  dear  Buckminster,  detailed  to  you  the  objects  to 
which  we  conceive  the  income  of  our  institution  ought  for 
the  present  to  be  appropriated,  and,  with  this  information, 
send  the  five  hundred  dollars  to  you,  to  procure  such  books 
for  the  institution  as  your  judgment  shall  dictate,  with  an 
entire  confidence  that  the  money  will  be  appropriated  in 
such  a  manner  as  will  advance  the  interests  and  extend  the 
patronage  of  the  establishment,  which  I  am  very  sensible 
you  have  much  at  heart.  All  the  newspapers  and  literary 
publications,  which  we  procure  through  the  kindness  of 
Mr.  Skinner,  we  expect  to  pay  for  here,  and  have  made 
our  arrangements  accordingly. 

'  You  must  be  very  sensible,  that  the  success  of  an  in- 
stitution like  ours  will  depend  very  much  on  the  punctuality 
and  dispatch  with  which  we  receive  our  foi-eign  newspapers, 
pamphlets,  new  books,  and  periodical  publications.  I  can- 
not urge  upon  you,  therefore,  too  strongly,  the  necessity  of 
adopting  such  measurcs,  before  you  embark  for  this  coun- 
try, as  will  best  secure  to  us  these  great  objects.  I  would 
beg  leave  to  suggest  to  you  the  expediency  of  selecting 
a  confidential  bookseller  in  London  ;  promise  that  we  will 
purchase  all  our  books  of  him  ;  let  him  supply  us  with  all 
our  newspapers,  magazines,  &c.,  —  in  short,  every  thing 
we  shall  want  from  England ;  tell  him  that  our  institution 
promises  to  be  a  permanent  one,  —  that  we  shall  probably 
send  to  England  from  one  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  per  year,  to  be  expended  in  books.  With  such 
inducements,  I  should  think,  some  one  might  be  persuaded 


404  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

to  make  considerable  exertion  to  comply  with  our  requisi- 
tions. If  you  should  adopt  any  plan  of  this  kind,  you  must 
give  information  to  Skinner's  house,  in  London. 

'  I  send  you  one  hundred  dollars,  on  my  own  account, 
with  which  I  wish  you  to  procui'e  for  me  the  best  edition 
of  Shakspeare's  plays,  with  all  the  prefaces,  notes,  com- 
mentaries, &c.,  which  I  suppose  to  be  Reid's ;  Dr.  Aikin's 
edition  of  Dr.  Johnson's  Dictionary,  in  four  volumes,  octavo, 
both  to  be  well  bound  in  calf;  Dibdin's  bibliographical 
works ;  and,  if  these  should  not  amount  to  one  hundred 
dollars,  any  other  books  you  may  please  to  procure  for  me. 
Alas  !  I  have  no  more  time  to  write  at  present.  Remember 
me  most  affectionately  to  Mr.  Thacher.  Consult  him  about 
the  reading-room.  Love  me  always,  and  believe  me  to  be 
most  sincerely  yours,  most  affectionately, 

'  Wm.  S.  Shaw.' 

'Boston,  13th  December,  1806. 

'  Dear  Bttckminster,  —  I  wrote  to  you  by  the  Galen  a 
long  letter,  and  inclosed  you  a  bill  of  exchange,  drawn 
upon  Samuel  Williams,  Esquire,  for  six  hundred  dollars, 
which  letter  I  presume  you  have  received.  It  ought  to  be 
a  considerable  object,  I  should  think,  in  the  purchase  of 
books  for  our  libraiy,  to  procure  such  valuable  works  as 
are  least  common  in  this  town,  and  most  difficult  to  be 
procured  in  this  country.  The  publications  relative  to  the 
literary  fund  in  England  I  have  never  seen  in  this  country, 
and,  if  they  have  any  merit,  I  think  you  had  best  procure 
them.  Horsley  on  Virgil's  Seasons  of  Honey  —  I  forget 
the  title  of  the  work — would  be  a  novelty  here.  I  want 
you  also  to  procure,  either  for  the  reading-room  or  for  me, 
"  A  View  of  the  Causes  and  Consequences  of  the  Ameri- 
can Revolution,  in  thirteen  Discourses,  preached  in  North 
America,  between  the  years  1763  and  1775,  by  Jonathan 
Boucher,  Vicar  of  Epsom,  in  the  County  of  Surry."  Rare 
books   relative  to  the  history  of  this  country  or  the   West 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  405 

India  islands,  &c.,  &c.,  ought  to  be  obtained.     The  publica- 
tions of  literary  associations  of  eminence  in  Great  Britain  we 
ought  to  procure.     Perhaps  such  letters  might  be  addressed 
to  the  societies  as  would  induce  them  to  present  copies  of 
their  publications  to  our  institution ;  but  of  this  you  are  the 
better  judge.     I  send  you  inclosed,  with  this,  ten  copies  of 
our  prospectus,  that  you  may  distribute  them  in  a  manner 
most  likely  to  promote  the  great  objects  of  our  institution. 
In  my  last,  I  suggested  to  you  the  expediency  of  selecting 
some  bookseller  in  London  who  would  undertake  to  supply 
us  with  every  thing  we  wanted,  and  who  would  be  respon- 
sible  for  the    punctual   and    early   transmission  of  all   our 
newspapers  and  literary  publications.     This  is  a  very  great 
object,  and  the  prosperity  and  advancement  of  the- institution 
depends  very  much  on  the  success  of  our  exertions  in  this 
particular.     I  would  further  suggest,  whether  it  would  not 
be  possible  to  make  some  arrangements  with  the  Athenseum 
and  Lyceum  of  Liverpool,  that  would  operate  beneficially 
to    our  establishment.     The   librarian   of  those   institutions 
might  possibly  be  induced  to  send  us  some  of  the  numerous 
publications  which  they  receive.     I  have  frequently  seen,  in 
this  town,  at  our  printing  offices,  English  newspapers,  with 
the  name  of  Athenaeum  stamped  upon  them,  and  which,  I 
have  understood,  came  from  that  institution.     These  insti- 
tutions must  receive  a  number  of  newspapers,  magazines, 
&c.,  &c.,  and   often  duplicates  which  they  do  not  care   to 
preserve,  and  would  be  willing  to  send  them  to  us  at  a  very 
low  price  ;  also,  political  pamphlets. 

'  I  think  you  might  also  advance  the  interests  of  our 
establishment  by  conversing  with  the  Americans,  particu- 
larly the  Bostonians,  in  England,  on  the  utility  and  the 
pleasure  which  will  probably  be  afforded  by  an  institution 
on  our  plan.  In  my  exertions  here,  I  have  generally  suc- 
ceeded beyond  my  most  sanguine  expectations,  in  obtaining 
subscriptions,  and  donations  in  books  as  well  as  money. 
The  plan  is  a  very  popular  one,  and  almost  eveiy  one  is 


406  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

desirous  of  doing  something  to  promote  its  objects.  If  you 
choose  to  exercise  the  influence  which  I  know  you  must 
possess  over  your  American  acquaintance  in  England,  and 
I  think  it  is  your  duty  to  do  it,  1  have  no  doubt  but  that  you 
might  obtain  some  very  valuable  donations  to  the  library. 
1  should  advise  you  to  give  one  of  our  pamphlets  to  every 
generous  American,  with  some  observations  which  may 
induce  them  to  make  some  exertion  to  promote  the  inter- 
ests of  the  establishment.  There  are  many  Englishmen, 
such  as  Sir  John  Sinclair,  &c.,  who  are  pleased  to  take  a 
very  lively  interest  in  every  thing  relative  to  American 
affairs,  and  who,  I  have  no  doubt,  would  be  very  much 
delighted  in  promoting  the  objects  of  our  establishment. 
These  gentlemen  might  be  very  useful  in  influencing  the 
learned  societies  to  make  donations  of  their  publications. 
I  should  also  think  it  very  proper  to  establish  a  correspond- 
ence vi^ith  some  learned  men  in  England,  to  whom  we  might 
be  permitted  to  write  in  behalf  of  the  institution,  and  who 
might  be  the  means  of  our  procuring  rare,  valuable  works, 
out  of  print,  which  we  could  not  otherwise  obtain.  Mr. 
Benjamin  Vaughan,  here,  has  recommended  us  to  his  brother 
William,  and  has  promised  to  give  us  letters  to  him.  In  my 
former  letter,  I  requested  you  to  procure  some  books  of 
reputation  for  the  merchants.  In  addition,  I  would  suggest 
to  you  the  propriety  of  purchasing  Oddy's  European  Com- 
merce, reviewed  in  the  Monthly  Review  for  August  last.  I 
send  you,  with  this,  a  second  bill  of  exchange,  drawn  upon 
Samuel  Williams,  Esq.,  for  six  hundred  dollars;  five  hundred 
to  be  laid  out  in  books  for  the  reading-room,  as  I  wrote  in 
my  former  letter,  and  one  hundred  on  my  own  account, — 
to  procure  the  best  edition  of  Shakspcare,  which  I  suppose 
to  be  Reid's,  Johnson's  Dictionary  by  Dr.  Aikin,  Dibdin's 
bibliographical  works,  to  which  I  would  add  the  Biblio- 
graphical Dictionary,  similar  to  the  one  which  Mr.  Emerson 
had.  If  these  books  should  amount  to  a  greater  sum  than 
one  hundred  dollars,  which  I  presume  they  will,  I  can  only 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  407 

promise  to  pay  the  bill  whenever  it  shall  be  presented.  If 
you  lay  out  the  whole  six  hundred  dollars  at  one  bookstore, 
you  will,  of  course,  procure  the  books  much  cheaper. 

'  The  gentlemen  of  the  Anthology  Society  desire  to  be 
particularly  remembered  to  you  and  our  friend  Thacher. 
We  now  meet  in  Congress  Street,  under  the  same  roof  with 
the  reading-room,  and  Cooper,  who  is  to  keep  the  library, 
provides  for  us.  Our  subscribers  gradually  increase,  and 
the  publication  seems  to  be  rising  in  reputation.  The  book- 
sellers and  printers  begin  to  think  us  of  some  consequence, 
and  send  us  most  of  their  publications.  We  frequently  drink 
a  bumper  to  the  health  of  our  good  friends  in  Europe,  and, 
with  much  sincerity,  wish  them  pleasure  and  improvement 
from  their  travels.  We  often  regret  that  we  have  not  been 
favored  with  some  communications  for  the  Anthology,  but 
anticipate  with  pleasure  the  time  when  they  will  come  en 
masse.  Mr.  Thacher  must  not  fail  to  fulfil  his  promise,  and 
we  expect  a  whole  budget  in  the  spring.  Phillips,  in  London, 
has  sent  us  an  answer  to  the  letter  which  we  wrote  to  him 
last  spring,  thanking  us  for  the  numbers  of  the  Anthology 
which  we  sent  him,  speaking  in  a  very  flattering  manner 
of  the  publication,  and  saying  that  he  should  be  very  happy 
to  interchange  with  us  ;  but  he  has  as  yet  sent  us  none  of  his 
numbers.  If  it  is  not  too  much  trouble,  I  wish  either  you 
or  Thacher  would  call  upon  him,  and  converse  with  him  on 
the  subject.  I  should  think  it  would  be  worth  while  to  make 
the  same  attempt  of  an  interchange  with  other  periodical 
publications  in  London.  I  also  wish  that  one  of  you  would 
cause  the  plan  of  our  institution  to  be  published  in  the 
Monthly  Magazine,  and  perhaps  some  other  publication, 
with  such  observations  as  you  may  think  proper.  Profes- 
sors McKean  and  Willard  are  on  nomination  for  members 
of  our  society.  You  have  already  heard  of  Dr.  Kirkland 
being  a  member,  and  we  find  him  very  pleasant  as  a 
sociable  man.  We  have  now  completed  our  third  volume, 
and  we  flatter  ourselves   that  the    last  is   very  much   the 


408  LETTERS    OF    AVILLIAM     S.   SHAW. 

best.  We  commence  the  new  year  with  a  firm  determi- 
nation to  persevere,  and  we  flatter  ourselves,  that,  with 
our  own  exertions,  and  with  such  foreign  aid  as  we  may 
procure,  we  shall  be  able  to  make  the  publication  still 
more  valuable. 

'  I  promised  my  curious  friend,  Harris,  whom  I  once 
introduced  to  you,  that  I  would  make  some  inquiries  of  you 
in  his  behalf.  In  the  second  volume  of  the  American 
Biography,  Dr.  Belknap  mentions  arrows  headed  with  brass 
being  shot  at  a  party  of  Englishmen,  by  the  Indians  of 
Massachusetts,  and  that  they  were  sent  to  England  as 
curiosities.  Now  he  wishes,  that,  if  you  meet  with  any 
such,  you  will  critically  examine  them.  He  can  account 
for  the  Indians  having  copper,  by  supposing  that  they  found 
it  in  its  natural  state,  but  brass  is  an  artificial  metal.  It 
would  favor  his  theory,  if  these  arrows'  heads  should 
prove  to  be  square,  brass  coins,  such  as  were  found  at 
Medford.' 

'  Boston,  31st  December,  1806. 

'  My  dear  Buckminster,  —  Not  knowing  how  early  the 
Galen  might  go  this  morning,  I  put  my  letter  into  the 
letter-bag  last  evening,  and,  as  the  ship  does  not  sail  till  this 
afternoon,  1  have  an  opportunity  of  which,  I  assure  you,  I 
readily  avail  myself,  of  writing  you  again.  I  also  send 
you,  in  a  package,  directed  to  Mr.  Samuel  Williams, 
twenty  copies  of  the  regulations  of  our  library,  on  which  I 
have  written,  "  Not  to  be  delivered  till  the  ship  arrives  in 
London."  As  the  rooms  are  not  to  be  opened  until  the  1st 
of  January,  1807,  the  printers  delayed  striking  them  off",  so 
that  I  did  not  get  them  till  late  last  evening,  and  was 
obliged  to  send  them  immediately  on  board  the  ship.  On 
looking  over  them,  I  find  there  are  several  typographical 
errors,  particularly  in  the  list  of  French  journals  and  the 
last  page,  which  I  wish  you  to  correct.  In  my  list  of 
periodical  publications,  sent  to  Skinner's  house,  in  London, 
I    wrote    for   the  Naval   Chronicle   and  Curtis's    Botanical 


LETTEKS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  409 

Magazine,  to  be  sent  out  from  some  number  in  this  year  ; 
but  we  wish  for  these  works  from  their  commencement,  the 
volumes  to  be  bound.  In  the  same  parcel  you  will  find 
Sherman's  account  of  the  proceedings  of  the  council, 
which,  thinking  it  might  afford  you  some  amusement,  1 
persuaded  Dr.  Kirkland  to  give  me,  to  send  to  you. 

'In  the  literary  way,  I  have  not  much  to  tell  you.  Brad- 
ford has  printed  four  parts  of  Rees's  Cyclopedia,  which,  in 
typographical  execution,  is  certainly  not  inferior,  in  any 
respect,  to  the  English  edition.  The  plates,  too,  are 
incomparably  well  executed. 

'  The  memoirs  of  Dr.  Priestley  you  have  probably  read 
in  London,  but  the  literary  world  receive  no  great  accession 
to  their  stock  of  knowledge  from  this  source.  I  was  most 
wretchedly  disappointed  in  perusing  these  volumes.  West 
&  Greenleaf  are  publishing  in  this  town  a  very  good 
edition  of  Burke's  works,  in  four  volumes,  which  they  sell 
for  eight  dollars.  The  first  volume  is  out  of  press,  and  is 
a  fine  specimen  of  American  typography.  Jos.  Dennie's 
Portfolio  has  been  supported  with  less  talent  this  year  than 
any  former  years,  and  the  Miscellany  died  a  natural  death 
last  Commencement.' 

'  Loudon,  March  10th,  1807. 

'My  dear  Shaw,  —  I  have  laid  out  all  your  draft  in 
books,  which  I  hope  will  be  useful,  though  they  were 
necessarily  selected  with  so  much  precipitation,  that  I  fear 
they  will  not  all  be  approved.  The  works  on  commerce  I 
send  because  they  are  the  best,  and  because  you  mentioned 
some  of  them.  Chalmers's  British  Essayists,  because  par- 
ticularly mentioned  in  your  letter ;  the  same  with  Virgil's 
Seasons  of  Honey.  In  the  article  dictionaries,  I  was 
unwilling  to  give  ten  or  twelve  guineas  for  Facciolati's, 
when  you  may  get  it  for  seventy-five  guilders  in  Holland  ; 
or  five  guineas  for  an  Elzivir  Scapula,  when  1  think  it  may 
be  found  in  Boston  for  much  less  ;  or  fourteen  guineas  for 
Stephens's  Greek  Thesaurus,  when  I  know  it  can  be  pro- 
33 


410  LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

cured  for  much  less  in  Paris.  Kennicott's  Bible,  and 
Calupo's  Concordance,  I  bought  because  they  were  cheap. 
If  they  are  not  wanted,  sell  them  to  Bowdoin  College.  A 
copy  of  Walton's  Polyglott,  with  Castell's  Lexicon,  can 
hardly  be  procured  here  at  any  price.  Of  the  new  books 
which  appeared  last  year,  I  send  two  or  three  of  the  most 
valuable  ;  but  I  know  no't  what  you  have  already,  and 
therefore  I  buy  new  books  with  caution.  The  only  book  I 
regret  having  bought  is  Thuanus,  for  I  know  it  will  not  be 
valued  or  read.  You  ought  to  have  a  set  of  the  British 
Poets.  I  shall  bring  out  some  one  edition,  which  you  can 
take  or  not,  as  you  please.  Those  maps,  which  1  send, 
you  can  use  till  my  return.  In  the  mean  while,  you  will 
determine  whether  you  will  order  a  set  on  spring  rollers. 
The  four  quarters  of  the  world.  East  Indies,  Pacific,  and 
South  America,  will  cost  you  between  fifty  and  sixty 
guineas.  Curtis's  is  too  expensive  to  make  part  of  the 
present  invoice.  I  am  extremely  sorry  that  the  books  could 
not  be  got  ready  for  the  new  Galen.  It  is  the  delay  of  the 
binder  which  has  prevented.  I  shall  certainly  put  them  on 
board  the  old  Galen,  or  Samuel  Welles's  vessel,  which  will 
sail  in  a  fortnight.  Among  the  books  which  I  have  bought 
for  myself,  there  are  several  which  have  that  character  of 
rarity,  as  well  as  excellence,  which  you  seem  to  demand, 
and  which,  upon  my  return,  the  Athenaeum  may  take  at  the 
price  which  they  cost  me. 

'  There  still  remain  in  P.'s  hands,  towards  your  next 
draft, —  but  I  believe  I  shall  send  them  out  immediately, 
upon  credit, —  Hoffman's  Lexicon  Universale  (either  this 
or  Pitiscus  is  indispensable  to  a  classical  student ;  _;Mrfice, 
Dr.  Parr)  ;  Curtis's  Bot.  Mag.,  from  the  commencement;  a 
set  of  British  Poets  (Anderson's  cheapest  and  most  com- 
plete, Johnson's  most  convenient  but  scarce,  Sharp's  very 
elegant  and  dear ;  —  tell  me  which  you  prefer  for  the 
reading-room);  Alberti's  Italian  Dictionary;  and  several 
new  publications. 


LETTERS    TO    WILLIABI    S.    SHAW.  411 

'  Tell  my  theological  friends  that  the  second  volume  of 
Griesbach  has  appeared,  and  I  have  taken  care  that  the 
Duke  of  Grafton  be  reminded  that  he  had  the  goodness  to 
present  a  large  paper  copy  of  the  first  volume  to  the 
University  at  Cambridge.  I  hope  they  will  receive  the 
second  in  the  course  of  the  summer. 

'  It  has  occurred  to  me  that  there  are  now  one  or  two 
opportunities  in  Boston  of  adding  to  your  institution  two  or 
three  extremely  valuable  works,  from  the  libraries  of 
persons  deceased.  Would  to  God  they  were  alive  !  But, 
His  will  be  done  !  This  circumstance  has  prevented  me 
from  purchasing  Wetstein,  Winklemann,  the  Monthly  Re- 
view complete,  etc. 

'  Here  follows  a  list  of  standard  works,  for  which  I  think 
you  may  send  to  Holland  with  more  advantage  than  to  any 
other  place,  except  Hamburg.     [Omitted.] 

'  I  shall  have  a  notice  of  your  institution  inserted  in  the 
Athenaeum,  here,  but  it  will  not  excite  any  interest,  reading- 
rooms  and  public  libraries  being  so  common  in  every  part 
of  England  and  Ireland.     Yours,  affectionately, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

'  London,  AprU  3d,  1807. 

'My  dear  Shaw,  —  At  length  I  have  finished  the  pur- 
chase of  books  for  the  reading-room,  and  have  exceeded, 
by  nearly  thirty  pounds,  my  commission  and  your  bill  of 
exchange.  If  you  disapprove  of  any  of  the  purchases,  as, 
upon  second  thoughts,  I  have,  in  two  or  three  instances,  you 
are  welcome  to  return  them  to  me  when  I  reach  America. 
My  theological  friends  may  blame  me  for  omitting  Kenni- 
cott,  but  they  would  blame  me  still  more  if  they  knew  the 
reason,  which  is,  that  nobody  would  consult  the  volumes, 
except  those  who  ought  to  possess  and  use  them  daily. 
I  have  sent  no  general  Atlas,  because  there  is  none  worth 
sending,  and  because  Pinkerton  has  announced  the  publica- 
tion of  a  grand  one,  which  is  to  supersede  all  others.     I 


412  LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

have  procured  Priestley  (bookseller)  to  subscribe  early  in 
behalf  of  the  Athenseum,  Boston.  If  you  still  wish  one 
immediately,  you  may  take  one  which  Faden  has  selected 
for  me  here,  and  for  which  I  gave  him  nine  guineas.  You 
may  take  it  at  what  it  shall  cost  me. 

'  Of  this  invoice,  several  books  were  purchased  merely 
in  conformity  to  your  instructions,  and  these,  unluckily, 
swell  the  bill  much,  —  e.  g.  Naval  Chronicle  and  Curtis's 
Botanical  Magazine,  from  the  beginning,  and  four  or  five 
expensive  works  on  commerce.  About  a  dozen  works  I 
have  sent  out  because  they  were  new,  and  it  should  be  an 
important  object  in  your  establishment  to  have  all  the  neio 
publications.  Those  that  are  worth  keeping  you  can  keep, 
and  the  others  you  may  sell  at  the  end  of  a  year  or  two. 
I  began  to  make  out  a  list  of  late  works  for  you,  but  was 
soon  obliged  to  stop,  from  the  difficulty  of  selection.  Upon 
the  whole,  I  believe  you  must  allow  me  ,to  give  a  general 
order  for  all  new  works.  As  to  those  I  have  sent,  I  cannot 
say  they  are  all  of  superior  merit  ;  but  I  suspect  the  least 
valuable  will  be  the  most  popular.  I  am  not  sure  that 
Blair's  Chronology  is  better  than  Playfair's.  One  or  the 
other,  I  think,  you  ought  to  have.  D'Anville's  maps  are 
excellent,  it  is  well  known  ;  but  I  believe  that  Laurie  &o 
Whittier's  edition  is  poorly  engraved,  but  it  is  the  only  one 
I  could  find.  At  any  rate,  D'Anville's  is  to  be  preferred,  I 
think,  to  Wilkenson's.  Of  Miller's  Gardener's  Dictionary, 
Chalmers's  British  Essayists,  and  Pinkerton's  new  editions, 
there  will  be,  I  think,  but  one  opinion  as  to  their  value.  .   .  . 

'  As  to  Eber's  German  Dictionary,  it  is  the  best,  and  if 
the  reading-room  does  not  want  it,  I  do.  Gregory's  Cyclo- 
pedia is  a  very  saleable  book,  if  you  choose  to  part  with  it. 
Pitiscus  is  indispensable  to  a  classical  student ;  so  is  Hoff- 
man's Lexicon.  This  latter  I  have  bought  for  myself,  and 
I  advise  you  to  send  for  it  in  your  next  order.  Maton, 
Drummond,  Mackenzie,  Foster,  Knight,  Pitts,  Lives  of 
Gray,  Kaimes,   etc.,   are   among   the   new   books.     But   I 


LETTERS    TO    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  413 

repeat,  again,  that  I  cannot  undertake  to  make  a  selection 
from  them.  How  far  back  must  I  go  ?  You  must  have  all 
the  new  publicatiens,  as  they  come  out,  if  they  have  any 
kind  of  merit.  The  edition  of  Scapula,  which  I  send, 
though  not  an  Elzivir,  is  equally  complete.  The  Elzivir 
cannot  be  bought  in  good  order  under  six  or  seven  guineas. 
Walker's  Pronouncing  Dictionary  is  of  last  year.  The 
Lactantius,  though  a  most  curious  and  standard  work,  the 
Historical  Society  will  be  glad  to  have,  if  you  are  not. 
Newman's  Spanish  Dictionary  I  know  nothing  about,  except  ^ 
that  it  is  the  last.     The  merit  of  Alberti  is  well  known. 

'  You  do  not  know  how  difficult  it  is  to  procure  many 
books  for  one  hundred  pounds.  I  have  run  the  Society  in 
debt  thirty  pounds,  which,  if  you  please,  you  will  provide 
for  in  your  next  draft. 

'  You  will  find  that  I  have  ventured  to  add  to  your  list 
of  periodical  works.  Whether  some  ought  to  be  struck  off 
or  not  you  will  judge.  There  are  a  great  many  books, 
too,  which  you  ought  to  have  among  the  first,  which  I  have 
not  purchased  here,  because  they  can  be  procured  so  much 
cheaper  on  the  Continent.  Among  them  I  must  mention 
Facciolatus  and  Gesner ;  Stephens's  Greek  Thesaurus,  with 
Scott's  Appendix  ;  a  complete  set  of  classics  and  of 
classical  helps,  such  as  the  immense  collections  of  Grcevius 
and  Gronovius ;  complete  sets  of  the  Acta  Eruditorum, 
Journal  des  Syavans,  Bibliotheque  Raisonnee,  the  Bible  of 
Le  Clerc,  the  Memoirs  of  the  Berlin  and  St.  Petersburg 
Academies,  Commentaries  of  the  Society  of  Leipsic, 
Abridgment  of  the  Philosophical  Transactions,  etc. 

'  I  would  suggest  the  practicability  of  procuring  the  com- 
plete set  of  the  Monthly  Review,  which  belonged  to  my 
good  friend  Deacon  Storer ;  also  the  Annual  Register.  I 
hope  you  have  the  list  I  have  sent  you  for  Paris,  and  that 
you  will  transmit  it  as  soon  as  possible.  I  repeat  again, 
I  should  not  have  sent  out  exactly  such  a  list,  had  I  not 
known  that  future  orders  for  London,  Amsterdam,  Paris, 
35* 


414  LETTERS    TO    "WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

and  I  hope,  too,  Hamburg  and  Leghorn,  would   probably 
supply  many  apparent  deficiencies. 

'  I  am  in  great  doubt  about  the  propriety  of  applying 
to  any  societies  here  for  an  exchange  of  publications;  for 
alas !  what  have  we  to  exchange  ?  The  Bath,  Manchester, 
Dublin,  etc..  Society  papers  are  extremely  valuable  ;  but 
I  think  our  funds  are  not  yet  sufficient  to  procure  them. 
We  must,  at  least  for  some  time,  think  of  popularity,  and 
I  know  of  no  method  so  likely  to  procure  it,  as  to  keep  our 
^rooms  furnished  with  abundance  of  magazmes,  pamphlets, 
and  new  books.  This,  I  am  satisfied,  should  be  our  first 
object ;  and  our  second,  to  lay  slowly  and  diligently  the 
foundation  of  a  permanent  library  of  works  difficult  to  be 
procured  in  America.  .£100  a  year,  judiciously  expended 
for  this  last  object,  would  do  much.  If  I  should  ever 
return,  which  God  grant  may  be  this  summer,  I  think  I 
shall  be  able  to  open  a  correspondence  with  Paris,  which 
will  supply  us  with  books  now  unknown  in  America. 

'  The  books  are  shipped  on  board  the  Amelia,  because 
Mr.  Welles  takes  them  for  nothing,  and  because  they  could 
not  be  got  ready  for  the  Galen.  Mr.  Williams  has  got 
them  insured. 

'  Your  affectionate 

'  J.  S.  B.' 

'  London,  June  6th,  1807. 

'  My  dear  Shaw,  —  I  had  determined  not  to  write  you 
another  letter  from  England  ;  but  I  have  just  seen,  in  a 
Boston  paper,  that  the  Amelia  has  arrived  with  the  precious 
deposit  for  the  reading-room,  and  I  cannot  fail  to  offer  you 
my  congratulations.  I  suggested  to  you  the  propriety  of 
ordering,  among  your  new  books  for  the  Atheufeum,  Ros- 
coe's  Lorenzo  de  Medici,  and  Leo  the  Tenth  ;  Duppa's  Life 
of  Michael  Angelo  ;  Shepherd's  Poggio  ;  and  one  other  of 
the  same  period,  which  I  do  not  now  recollect,  uniformly 
bound.     I  wish  it  were  in  your  power  to  order  some  of  the 


COHRESPONDENCE  OF  SHAW  AND  BUCKMINSTER.    415 

superb  topographical  works  upon  Greece  and  Rome,  such 
as  Stuart's  Antiquities  of  Athens,  Gell's  Topography  of 
Troy,  Lumisden-,  Caylus,  etc.,  to  say  nothing  of  Groevius 
and  Gronovius, 

'  Among  the  valuable  works  of  the  last  year,  I  cannot 
omit  to  mention  Stuart's  Translation  of  Sallust,  2  vols.  8vo., 
extremely  interesting  to  a  lover  of  Roman  Literature  ;  Lord 
Holland's  Life  of  Lope  de  Vega ;  Duten's  Memoirs ;  Clark- 
son's  Portraiture  of  Quakerism  ;  and  many  others,  which  I 
desired  to  send  out,  if  your  request  not  to  run  you  in  debt 
had  not  deterred  me. 

'  I  cannot  forbear,  too,  offering  you  my  advice  about 
your  proposed  edifice.  Do  not  build  any,  unless  you  can 
raise  money  enough  to  erect  an  elegant  classical  building, 
either  entirely  of  stone,  or  with  a  stone  farade,  which  shall 
reflect  everlasting  credit  upon  the  taste  and  munificence 
of  the  founders.  If  you  cannot  do  this,  any  common  house 
will  answer  your  purpose.  The  more  rooms  the  better,  if 
securely  warmed  in  winter.  At  any  rate,  before  you  build, 
I  hope  you  will  obtain,  from  England  and  the  Continent, 
drawings,  and  plans,  and  views  of  structures  of  the  kind 
proposed.  Loammi  Baldwin,  who,  I  understand,  has  just 
arrived,  would  send  you  from  Paris,  if  not  from  London, 
plans  worthy  of  your  attention.  I  shall  venture  to  speak  to 
him  upon  the  subject.' 

Certainly  Mr.  Shaw  placed  unbounded  confidence 
in  his  friend,  and  his  commissions  were  executed 
with  as  much  care  as  a  residence  of  only  four  months 
in  London,  to  one  who  was  absent  on  account  of 
precarious  health,  could  well  afford.  A  part  of  this 
time  also  was  taken  up  in  an  excursion  to  Scotland 
and  Wales.  It  would  excite  a  smile,  if  it  did  not 
almost  provoke  anger,  to  find,  that,  in  addition  to 
work  imposed  upon  him  that  would  have  occupied 
a  paid  agent  for  months,  Mr.  Shaw  gravely  asks  him 


416  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

'  to  write  a  series  of  letters  for  the  Anthology,  upon 
the  literature  of  England,  their  colleges,  their  schools, 
their  literary  institutions  and  literary  men,  which  I 
am  very  sure,'  he  says,  '  would  be  novel  and  inter- 
esting and  useful  to  the  people  of  this  country.'  A 
young  man,  with  a  few  months  to  devote  to  the 
recovery  of  his  health,  was,  beside  all  the  rest  of  his 
work,  to  write  a  book  like  La  Harpe's,  which  was 
the  employment  of  the  best  years  of  life ! 

'Boston,  May  ]3th,  1807. 

'  I  do  most  sincerely  congratulate  you,  my  dear  Buck- 
minster,  on  the  flattering  prospect  you  have  of  the  restora- 
tion of  your  health.  This  is  the  only  consideration  which 
in  any  degree  reconciles  me  to  your  longer  absence,  for  I 
do  wish  most  ardently  for  your  return.  Since  the  death 
of  our  dear  friend  AValter,  I  have  regretted  your  absence, 
and  wished  for  your  company,  more  than  ever.  O,  my 
dear  friend,  how  little  did  we  anticipate  this  most  grievous 
dispensation  of  God's  holy  providence  when  last  we  parted ! 
A  thousand  little  incidents,  relative  to  his  sickness  and 
death,  forcibly  impress  themselves  upon  my  mind  ;  and 
if  God  shall  be  pleased  to  permit  us  to  meet  again,  I  will 
detail  them  to  you  with  melancholy  pleasure.  I  need  not 
tell  you,  who  were  so  well  acquainted  with  us  both,  how 
much  I  loved  him,  nor  how  worthy  he  was  of  admiration 
and  esteem.  There  was  no  good  that  I  ever  enjoyed, 
there  was  no  pleasure  that  I  ever  anticipated,  with  which 
Walter  was  not  most  intimately  associated  ;  but  my  dear 
friend  is  dead  !  I  ought  not  to  complain  ;  God's  will 
be  done !  How  many  delightful  hours  have  we  passed 
together  in  conversing  about  you,  my  good  friend,  —  in 
recollecting  the  pleasures  of  former  days  passed  in  social 
converse,  —  in  felicitating  you  on  the  advantages  we 
flattered  ourselves  you  would  enjoy  from  your  travels,  in 
your  health   and   in   intellectual   improvement,  —  and  with 


LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW.  417 

what  transport  did  we  anticipate  your  return !  O,  my 
God  !  Of  such  pleasures  departed,  never  to  return,  how 
painful  the  remembrance  ! 

'  From  the  pamphlets,  which  1  send  to  you  with  this,  of 
which  you  have  several  for  distribution  as  you  think  proper, 
you  will  see  that  the  Trustees  of  the  Anthology  reading- 
room  and  library  have  obtained  an  act  of  incorporation  by 
the  name  of  the  Proprietors  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  I 
doubt  very  much  whether  there  ever  has  been  an  institution 
in  this  country,  which  has  made  such  rapid  advances  as 
ours ;  and  I  can  now  congratulate  you  on  the  prospect  of 
having  a  library  in  this  town,  which  you  always  seemed  to 
believe  was  only  a  delusion  of  my  idle  brain,  on  a  liberal 
plan,  highly  honorable  to  the  munificence  of  our  citizens, 
and  which  will  assist  and  facilitate  the  researches  of  the 
learned  and  gratify  the  ingenious  curiosity  of  strangers. 
This,  with  me,  I  can  assure  you,  is  no  ordinary  subject  for 
congratulation.  Depend  upon  it,  that  the  establishment  of 
the  Athenseum,  the  rooms  of  which  are  to  be  always  acces- 
sible at  all  hours  of  the  day,  is  one  of  the  greatest  strides 
towards  intellectual  advancement  that  this  country  has  ever 
witnessed.  We  have  every  reason  to  believe  that  the 
hundred  and  fifty  shares  will  be  taken  up,  which,  at  three 
hundred  dollars  a  share,  will  give  us  forty-five  thousand 
dollars.  We  already  have  fifty  shares  subscribed  for,  and 
there  are  about  thirty  gentlemen  beside,  who  have  promised 
to  subscribe.  We  shall  not  trouble  ourselves  for  life- 
subscribers  till  the  permanent  shares  are  taken  up,  which  I 
undertake  to  say  will  be  the  case  in  the  course  of  three 
weeks  at  least,  and  perhaps  in  a  less  time. 

'  You  did  very  right  to  send  us  out  the  Oxford  Review, 
though  I  do  not  think  much  of  the  numbers  I  have  read. 
As  our  funds  are  very  much  increased,  we  can  now  afford 
to  take  all  the  English  literary  magazines  of  any  eminence, 
and  you  are  at  liberty  to  add  any  to  the  list  you  please. 
What  merit  has  the  Panorama,  a  new  publication  I  see 


418  LETTERS    OF    WILLIAM    S.    SHAW. 

advertised  ?  We  are  perfectly  satisfied  with  the  arrange- 
ments made  in  London  with  Jenner,  for  the  periodical 
pubHcations.  They  come  out  as  regularly  as  we  could 
expect  to  receive  them  from  London  ;  but  we  wish  that 
there  might  be  some  arrangement  in  Liverpool,  so  that  no 
vessel  should  sail  for  Boston  without  some  papers  for  us. 
Could  you  not  make  some  agreement  with  the  Athenseum, 
Lyceum,  or  Union  Society,  to  send  out  some  papers  differ- 
ent from  those  we  already  have  at  half-price  ?  You  must 
not  send  us  out  any  books  on  credit.  Remember  me  with 
all  possible  affection  to  dear  Thacher.  In  great  haste,  dear 
Buckminster,  yours,  W.  S.  S,' 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

CORRESPONDENCE   BETWEEN   DR.   BUCKMINSTER  AND   HIS 
DAUGHTER. REMARKS  UPON  THE  CORRESPONDENCE. 

Dr.  Buckminster's  marriage,  for  the  third  time, 
took  place,  after  a  widowhood  of  five  years,  in  the 
summer  of  1810.  His  wife  was  the  widow  of  Col. 
Eliphalet  Ladd,  who  had  been  one  of  his  best  and 
most  valuable  parishioners;  and  a  long  and  intimate 
acquaintance  had  guarantied  to  both  families  the  hap- 
piness that  would  be  secured  to  their  parents  from  a 
nearer  union.  Her  genuine  kindness,  the  devoted 
and  patient  love,  which  rendered  the  last  years  of 
my  father's  life  free  from  care,  and  soothed  the  irri- 
tation of  a  mind  beginning  to  feel  the  approach  of 
declining  years  and  of  mental  depression,  secured  to 
her  the  most  affectionate  gratitude  of  his  children. 

The  father's  comfort  being  thus  happily  provided 
for,  his  daughters  were  no  longer  detained  by  filial 
scruples  from  the  pleasant  sojourn  of  their  brother's 
house.  His  anxiety  for  their  eternal  welfare  in- 
creased as  they  were  more  separated  from  him.  It 
would  be  unjust  to  his  memory  to  exclude  from 
these  pages  the  following  correspondence,  which 
took  place  at  this  time.  But  although  the  letters 
appear  without  the   alteration  of  a  single  word,    in 


420  DR.  buckminsteb's  correspondence 

the  apprehension  of  the  writer,  the  Calviiiistic  for- 
mula and  mode  of  expression,  which  give  to  them 
a  sectarian  aspect,  is  wholly  distinct  from  the  spirit 
that  breathes  through  them.  My  father's  religion 
was  of  the  heart,  not  of  the  head  ;  it  was  neither 
that  of  Calvin,  nor  of  the  Assembly's  Catechism  ;  it 
was  the  pure  spirit  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ  that 
breathed  in  that  form  of  faith  which  bonnd  him  to  a 
system.  It  was  not  the  form  nor  the  name  which  fed 
his  spiritual  nature  and  kept  alive  the  'life  of  God  in 
his  soul.'  He  would  have  been  happier  could  he 
have  held  more  intimate  communion  with  his  chil- 
dren,—  could  he  have  recognized  in  his  son,  and  in 
the  daughter  to  whom  these  letters  are  addressed,  the 
same  spirit  which  breathed  in  his  own  soul,  —  could 
he  have  seen  that  love,  joy,  peace,  gentleness,  and 
goodness  were  as  much  the  fruits  of  the  spirit  of 
grace  in  them  as  '  repentance,  faith  and  holiness ' 
are  in  those  denominated  '  Orthodox  Christians,'  If 
they  have  met  in  the  great  company  of  purified  spirits 
assembled  from  among  those  who  have  worn  the 
livery  of  every  sect,  and  been  claimed  by  every  de- 
nomination beneath  the  sun,  the  only  bond  of  union 
will  be,  that  they  have  lived  the  divine  life,  the  life 
of  God  in  the  soul. 

After  the  marriage  of  her  father,  his  eldest  daughter 
made  her  brother's  house  her  permanent  home,  and 
the  other  sisters  were  occasionally  there.  Their 
separation  was  short,  but  they  never  met  on  earth 
again  ;  and  the  words  which  closed  the  correspon- 
dence,— '  O,  my  child,  let  us  be  prepared  to  live 
with  Christ  in  the  world  to  come  ! '  —  as  they  had  a 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  421 

prophetic  meaning,  so  we  may  trust  they  had  a  perfect 
and  blissful  fiilfihnent. 

The  correspondence  begins   by  a  letter  from  his 
eldest  daughter  to  a  sister. 

'  Boston,  September,  1810. 

'  I  have  just  been  looking  at  the  moon  from  the  roof  of 
the  house  where  you,  my  dear  E.,  passed  many  hours  last 
summer,  but  never  one  where  nature  was  more  tranquilly 
sublime  than  now.  Every  thing  seems  to  say  that  we  are 
the  work  of  a  perfect  Being,  and  the  care  of  a  mild  and 
compassionate  Father  ;  and  we  can  almost  believe  that  he 
is  looking  even  upon  us  with  approbation  and  love.  How 
great  are  our  obligations  to  this  God  !  and  how  far  do  I  fall 
short  of  performing  the  duties  aright  that  these  obligations 
imply  !  Our  best  endeavors  to  serve  him  are  but  poor 
returns  for  the  mercies  he  bestows  upon  us  ;  and  yet  I,  who 
have  received  blessings  without  number,  neglect  some  of 
his  most  plain  and  reasonable  commands !  When  I  sat 
down  to  my  desk,  I  did  not  think  of  falling  into  this  train 
of  thought ;  but  why  may  I  not  write  to  you,  dear  E.,  upon 
a  subject,  which,  from  a  consciousness  of  my  deficiency  in 
knowledge,  I  dare  not  converse  upon,  although  it  often 
employs  my  thought  ?  I  am  sure  you  believe,  with  me, 
that  it  is  a  duty  in  every  one  arrived  at  years  of  discretion, 
and  desirous  of  the  name  of  Christian,  to  profess  publicly 
her  belief  in  Christianity,  and  show  to  the  world  that  she 
loves  and  reveres  the  character  of  the  blessed  Saviour  by 
partaking  of  the  holy  ordinance. 

'  I  am  far  from  believing  that  there  are  not  many  good 
persons,  who,  from  doubt  of  their  qualifications,  mistrust  of 
their  sincerity,  or  perhaps  from  a  habit  of  procrastination, 
live  and  die  without  becoming  members  of  the  Church  in 
this  world,  who  will  yet  enjoy  all  the  happiness  of  heaven  ; 
still,  I  think  it  is  a  duty  every  Christian  should  perform,  and 
that  the  neglect  of  it  causes  a  severe  compunction  and  pain 
36 


422  DR.  buckminster's  correspondence 

of  conscience.  I  have  been  wishing  to  talk  with  papa  on 
the  subject,  but  I  cannot  get  confidence,  and  I  believe  that 
I  have  sometimes  refrained  through  fear,  that,  instead  of 
an  honor  I  should  be  a  reproach  to  the  cause  of  Christ ; 
for,  in  every  situation,  we  should  "  keep  a  conscience  void 
of  offence  to  God  and  man  ; "  and  those  who  publicly  pro- 
fess to  be  Christ's  disciples  do  more  injury  to  the  cause  of 
Christianity  by  small  errors  than  mere  men  of  the  world 
do  by  great  sins.  Are  we  not  promised  the  assistance  of 
God's  spirit  to  help  us  in  all  our  sincere  endeavors  to  serve 
him  ?  and,  if  we  firmly  believe  this,  are  we  not  wrong  in 
neglecting  any  means  which  will  enable  us  to  become  more 
worthy  disciples  of  Jesus,  and  more  perfect  in  our  lives  ? 

'  The  precepts  of  the  Gospel  do  not  prohibit  rational  and 
moderate  pleasures  ;  indeed,  the  purest  pleasures  are  there 
recommended  and  enforced  ;  our  endeavor  should  be  to 
form  the  mind,  and  keep  it  in  a  state  for  their  enjoyment. 
There  we  are  taught  that  such  a  disposition  is  necessary ; 
that,  while  we  live  in  the  world,  we  should  be  able  to  live 
above  it.  We  must  often  associate  in  the  world  with  those 
whose  chief  happiness  is  in  the  show  and  pageantry  of  the 
world  ;  but  it  does  not  follow,  because  we  are  charitable  to 
such,  "  that  we  are  lovers  of  pleasure  more  than  lovers  of 
God."  The  difference  of  opinion  that  prevails  upon  the 
most  momentous  subjects,  at  the  present  time,  makes  one 
almost  afraid  to  adopt  any  belief;  for  what  we  will  assert 
is  truth,  another  will  reason  into  falsehood.  I  cannot  but 
believe,  that,  if  any  particular  faith  had  been  required  for 
the  attainment  of  heaven,  it  would  have  been  distinctly 
revealed  to  us ;  and  when  we  see  so  many  good  men 
differing  in  faith  and  sentiment,  who  are  making  equal 
exertions  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the  improvement  of 
man,  we  cannot  but  believe  that  they  will  partake  of  equal 
joys  in  another  world. 

'  Most  affectionately,  your 

'L.  M.  B.' 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER,  423 

After  reading   this  letter,  the  father  wrote  in  re- 
ply :  — 

'October  29th,  I^IO. 

'My  dear   Daughter,  —  Religion,   my  dear  child,   real 
religion,  is  the  principal  thing,  the  thing  of  first  importance, 
the  one  thing  needful,  to  all  ages  and  characters.     It  does 
not   consist   in    a    speculative    belief   of   a    certain    set    of 
principles,  even  though  they  be  true  ;  nor  in  the  external 
performance  of  a  round  of  duties,  though  they  be  the  duties 
which  reason  and  revelation  impose  upon  us ;  but  it  consists 
in  a  reconciliation  of  the  heart  to  God,  in  an  approbation 
of  his  character,  his   government,   his   truth,   his   precepts, 
his  institutions,  and  a  conformity  to  them,  —  performing  the 
services  which  they  impose  from   a  principle  of  love  and 
respect  to   his  authority  and   pleasure.     It   (i.   e.   religion) 
gives  God,  as  manifested  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  preference  to 
all  other  objects,  and  rebinds  the  soul  to  him,  as  its  supreme 
good.     Now  this  is  not  the  natural  state  of  man, —  of  any 
man  descended  from  apostate  Adam.     We  are  alienated 
and  estranged  from  God  through  the  ignorance  that  is  in  us, 
by  reason  of  the  blindness  of  our  hearts  ;  we  are  naturally 
averse  from  the  true  character  of  God  as  a  holy  and  sove- 
reign God.     We  may  love  his  blessings,  but  we  love  not 
him".     We  love  pleasure  more  than  God,  and  the  creature 
more  than  the  Creator.     We  love  human  excellence  more 
than  the  Divine,  —  talk  more  about  it,  dwell  more  upon  it, 
although  the  former  is  to  the  latter  but  as  the  drop  of  the 
bucket  to  the  waves  of  the  ocean.     Universal   experience 
and   Scriptural   declaration   confirm    this   truth ;    hence   the 
necessity  of  our  being  born  again,  —  of  our  being  renewed 
in  the   spirit  of  our  minds,  —  created  anew.     This  is   not 
some   trifling  alteration  in  our  sentiments,  views,  feelings, 
and  practices,  but  it  is  a  radical,  and  essential,  and  abiding 
change,    in    which    old    things    pass    away    and    all    things 
become  new  ;  in  which  God  is  welcomed  to  his  throne  in 
the  heart,  and  every  thing  is  brought  into  obedience  to  his 


424  DR.  buckminster''s  correspondence 

pleasure.  This  is  religion,  and  to  effect  this  is  the  design 
of  the  mighty  apparatus  of  the  Gospel.  Till  this  is 
effected,  we  have  no  part  or  lot  in  religion,  —  no  title  to 
its  blessings.  This  is  the  religion  I  want  for  my  children. 
But  I  fear,  through  the  pride  of  science  and  philosophy, 
and  the  fashionable  liberality  of  the  present  day,  my 
children  are  placing  the  most  formidable  barriers  against 
their  ever  possessing  it. 

'  This  change,  that  I  have  spoken  of,  is  effected  by 
receiving  Christ  and  believing  in  him,  with  a  cordial,  but 
humbling  and  self-denying  faith.  In  proportion  as  we 
cherish  inadequate  ideas  of  our  helpless,  guilty,  and  incura- 
ble state  by  natui-e,  flattering  ideas  of  there  being  some 
remains  of  good  in  us,  surviving  the  apostasy,  upon  which, 
by  our  own  exertions,  we  may  raise  ourselves  to  a  moral 
and  spiritual  change,  we  shall  be  indifferent  to  the  Saviour, 
we  shall  have  low  thoughts  of  his  character  and  of  his 
undertaking,  and  compass  ourselves  about  with  sparks  of 
our  own  kindling,  till  we  receive  this  at  the  hand  of  the 
Lord,  that  we  lie  down  in  sorrow.  I  wish  that  I  had  not  so 
much  reason  to  fear  that  none  of  my  children  are  partakers 
of  this  grace.  I  have  reason  to  bless  God  that  you  are 
amiable,' that  you  are  improved,  that  you  are  affectionate  to 
each  other  and  dutiful  to  me  ;  but,  O  that  I  could  hope  that 
you  were  gracious,  that  you  loved  Christ  in  his  true  char- 
acter, more  than  father  or  brother,  more  than  characters 
distinguished  for  science  and  philosophy,  for  politeness  and 
refinement,  in  a  vain  world,  whose  pageantry  will  soon 
vanish  as  a  dream  ! 

'  I  have  been  favored  and  pleased  with  reading  the  letters 
you  wrote  to  E.,  with  the  scenery  and  descriptions  of 
society  in  England,  and  the  interest  you  take  in  it.  Are 
you  as  much  interested,  my  dear  daughter,  in  the  scenes 
that  were  exhibited  in  Judea,  in  Mount  Calvary,  and  the 
garden  of  Gethsemane  ?  Do  they  at  any  time  cause  such 
emotions  to  thrill  in  your  breast  ?     Are  you  as  sensibly 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  425 

interested  in  the  cbaracters  there  ?  How  natural,  in  writing 
to  a  beloved  sister,  bound  with  you  to  eternity,  and  whose 
only  hope  must  be  with  yours  in  this  Saviour,  how  natural 
would  it  have  been  to  have  adverted  to  it !  You  love 
Miss  L.  for  her  admiration  of  Miss  S.  Do  you  love  those 
who  admire  Christ  in  his  true  character,  and  because  they 
admire  him  ?  O,  my  child,  may  God  enable  you  to  do  so, 
and  to  love  all  those  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  in  sincerity. 

You  are  anticipating  with  pleasure  a  portrait  of ,  and  a 

bust  of .     Have  you  any  such  desires  to  see  Jesus,  or 

to  gaze  upon  the  tokens  of  his  love,  the  symbols  of  his 
body  and  blood  ?  A  fear  that  you  had  not,  my  dearest 
daughter,  —  a  fear  that  you  were  a  stranger  to  the  power  of 
Divine  grace,  —  was  the  reason  I  did  not  encourage  your 
making  a  profession  of  religion  when  you  spoke  to  me  on 
the  subject ;  but  perhaps  I  judged  wrong.  I  beseech  you 
not,  my  dear  child,  to  rest  in  professions,  —  m  saying  Lord, 
Lord  !  —  but  be  sure  that  Christ  is  your  Lord,  and  that  you 
are  crucified  to  the  world  and  the  world  to  you.  Rest  in 
nothing  sort  of  regeneration,  for  unless  you  are  born  again, 
you  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God.' 

'November  23d,  1810. 

'  My  dear  Daughter,  —  The  reading  of  your  letter 
brought  to  my  mind  the  breathing  of  the  Apostle,  in  the 
fourth  chapter  of  Galatians,  nineteenth  and  twentieth  verses. 
However  uncharitable  it  may  appear  to  you,  I  must  say,  I 
stand  in  doubt  of  my  children,  and  have  fears,  that,  lest,  as 
the  serpent  beguiled  Eve  through  his  subtlety,  so  their 
minds  should  be  corrupted  from  the  simplicity  that  is  in 
Christ.  The  breathing  of  the  Apostle,  in  the  passage 
referred  to  above,  implies  in  the  strongest  terms,  that, 
naturally,  there  is  nothing  of  Christ  in  us  ;  nothing  until  it 
is  formed  within  us.  This  is  supported  by  express  Scrip- 
ture testimony.  Every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of 
man's  heart  is  evil,  only  evil,  and  that  continually,  from 
his  youth.  "  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
36* 


426  DR.  buckminster's  correspondence 

desperately  wicked."  "  You  hath  he  quickened,"  saith  the 
Apostle  to  the  Ephcsians,  "  who  were  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins  ; "  and,  lest  he  should  be  thought  to  confine  this 
description  to  the  heathen,  he  speaks  of  the  privileged 
Jews  as  in  the  same  state  befoi'e  their  conversion,  "  among 
whom  we  all  had  our  conversation  in  times  past,  in  the  lusts 
of  the  flesh,  ftilfilling  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of  the 
mind,  and  were  by  nature  children  of  wrath,  even  as 
others."  The  denying,  doubting,  disbelieving  this  truth, 
leads  to  a  train  of  errors  in  theology.  Nay,  unless  the 
heart  be  better  than  the  head,  having  been  the  subject  of 
exercises  which  the  head  denies,  I  do  not  see  how  it  can  be 
a  temple  for  the  Holy  Spirit  to  dwell  in.  The  corrupting  of 
this  doctrine,  or  believing  that  the  apostasy  of  man  has 
only  given  a  shock  to  his  moral  and  spiritual  state,  while  it 
has  left  some  principle,  some  stamina,  by  which  he  may 
raise  himself  up  to  the  favor  of  God,  and,  without  the 
foundation  of  a  belief  in  total  depravity,  become  a  holy 
temple  to  the  Lord,  reconciles  us  to  low  ideas  of  Christ  and 
his  work,  and  preserves  the  pride  and  self-complacency 
which  must  be  brought  down  before  we  can  become 
partakers  of  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel. 

'  A  want  of  conviction  of  this  natural  state  of  man,  which 
constitutes  the  necessity  of  the  wonderful  plan  of  the  Gospel, 
is  the  reason  why  persons  do  not  know  what  regeneration 
means,  and  why  preachers  preach  so  indistinctly  upon  it. 
Regeneration  is  the  change  in  the  natural  state  of  man,  the 
radical  alteration  of  this  character,  the  slaying  of  the  enmity 
of  the  heart,  (for  "  the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  to  God,")  the 
bowing  and  renewing  of  the  will.  This  change  does  not 
produce  any  new  powers  in  the  heart,  but  it  changes  the 
direction  of  the  powers,  the  will,  and  the  affections.  It  is 
the  beginning  of  a  new  life,  with  new  principles,  new  views, 
and  new  objects  of  delight  and  aversion.  Without  this 
change  no  one  can  see  the  kingdom  of  God.  Make  the 
tree   good,  and  the  fruit  will  be  good ;  but  as  long  as  the 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  427 

tree  is  corrupt  the  fruit  will  be  corrupt.  They  who  are  in 
the  flesh  cannot  please  God.  This  cannot  mean  in  the 
body,  because  of  many  such  it  has  been  known  that  they 
pleased  God.  Neither  can  it  mean  those  who  live  in  great 
sensuality,  because  emulation,  wrath,  strife  are  fruits  of  the 
flesh,  as  much  as  intemperance  or  sensuality.  It  means 
those  who  are  in  the  state  of  their  natural  birth,  as  born  of 
the  flesh.  Man  cannot  raise  himself  up,  or  produce  the 
new  birth.  He  may  do  much,  if  he  will  not  resist  and  op- 
pose the  plain  truths  of  God,  toward  making  himself  sensible 
of  his  need  of  this  birth ;  but,  in  order  to  its  being  effected, 
he  must  bow  and  yield  himself,  as  a  poor,  helpless,  guilty, 
and  justly  condemned  sinner,  to  sovereign  grace.  He  must 
receive  Christ  as  he  is  offered  to  him  in  the  Gospel.  Christ 
is  the  plank  thrown  out  to  sinners  in  their  shipwreck,  and 
they  must  grasp  it  by  faith,  and  rest  upon  him,  or  they 
perish.  To  them  who  receive  him,  to  them  power  is  given 
to  become  the  sons  of  God,  even  to  them  who  believe  in 
his  name,  who  are  born  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the 
flesh,  nor  of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God.  We  must  submit 
to  this  righteousness  of  Christ.  If  we  do  not,  however  much 
zeal  we  may  use  to  establish  our  own  righteousness,  we 
shall  never  attain  to  the  law  of  holiness,  and  shall  only 
compass  ourselves  about  with  sparks  of  our  own  kindling. 
The  prophet  Isaiah  has  said,  such  shall  receive  this  at  the 
hand  of  God,  "  that  they  shall  lie  down  in  sorrow." 

'  "  If  any  man  be  in  Christ,"  the  Apostle  says,  "  he  is  a 
new  creature  ;  to  be  carnally  minded  is  death,  but  to  be 
spiritually  minded  is  life  and  peace."  Christians  are  God's 
workmanship,  created  in  Christ  Jesus  to  good  works,  which 
God  hath  before  ordained,  that  we  should  walk  in  them. 
Till  we  are  created  in  Christ  Jesus,  then,  till  we  repent  and 
believe  in  him,  till  we  are  regenerated,  we  cannot  produce 
those  good  works,  which  God  has  before  ordained,  wherein 
Christians  should  walk.  If  you  are  at  a  loss  upon  the 
nature  of  regeneration,  read  Dr.  Doddridge's  sermons  on 
that  subject. 


428  DR.  buckminster's  correspondence 

'  You  say,  my  dear  child,  that  you  have  no  idea  of  arriving  ' 
in  this  world  to  any  particular  stage  of  goodness,  but  that  all 
must  be  progress.  If  you  mean  a  state  of  perfection,  which 
your  following  remarks  indicate,  no  one  that  is  taught  of 
God  has  any  such  idea.  But  we  must  commence  a  state  of 
goodness  ;  we  must  change  our  master.  The  evil  one  must 
be  cast  out  of  us,  and  Christ  must  take  possession  of  our 
hearts.  We  must  not  only  have  our  hearts  swept,  but 
washed ;  "  without  holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord." 
We  shall  not  then  think  we  have  no  more  to  do,  but  w'e  shall 
think  we  can  never  do  enough  for  him  that  hath  loved  us 
and  washed  us  in  his  blood.  We  shall  then  work  from  life 
and  love,  and  notyor  them.  If  we  should  attain  that  assu- 
rance which  we  are  commanded  to  use  all  diligence  to 
attain,  so  as  not  to  be  banished  from  God,  we  shall  have  an 
increased  concern  not  to  do  any  thing  to  grieve  and  offend 
him,  and  we  shall  have  more  ardent  wishes  to  abound  in  the 
fruits  of  righteousness,  which  are  by  Jesus  Christ,  to  the 
praise  and  glory  of  God. 

'You  say,  my  dear  child,  that  you  know  that  you  are 
unworthy  to  come  to  the  communion  ;  you  would  use  it  as 
a  means  ;  and  you  ask  if  deferring  it  will  make  your  sins 
less.  If  you  have  come  to  Christ,  this  is  all  the  worthiness 
that  any  will  ever  have,  —  their  sole  title  to  this  ordinance. 
You  are  unworthy  to  come  to  Christ,  but  his  invitation  and 
command  removes  the  obstacle,  and  gives  you  a  fair  title 
to  come  ;  and,  however  unworthy  you  are,  if  you  do  come, 
you  shall  be  welcome,  and  all  things  shall  work  together 
for  your  good.  Unworthiness  never  was  an  obstacle ;  it  is 
only  unwillingness  to  come  to  the  terms  of  the  Gospel  that 
ruins  us. 

'  Nothing  on  earth  could  give  me  higher  happiness  than 
to  have  ground  to  believe  that  Christ  was  formed  in  the 
hearts  of  my  children,  —  that  they  had  truly  given  them- 
selves to  the  Lord ;  then  it  would  be  a  joy  to  me  to  have 
them  enroll  their  names  in  the  church  committed  to  their 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  429 

father's  care.  But  it  matters  little  in  what  Christian  records 
our  names  are  written,  if  they  arc  written  in  the  Lamb's 
book  of  life.  Some  churches  have  departed  from  the  funda- 
mental doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  but  their  corruptions  will 
not  destroy  the  comfort  and  usefulness  of  the  ordinances, 
to  those  who  with  penitent  and  believing  hearts  partake  of 
them. 

'  If  you  are  satisfied,  my  child,  respecting  your  right  to 
the  ordinance,  that  you  do  indeed  receive  its  Divine  author 
as  your  Lord,  that  you  can  take  up  your  cross  and  follow 
him  in  sincere  and  faithful  allegiance,  you  had  better  not 
delay  any  longer  to  join  your  bi'other's  church  ;  but  let  a 
father  entreat  you  not  to  rest  in  a  name  to  live,  while  you 
are  dead  ;  not  in  a  form  of  godliness  without  its  power;  — 
that  power  that  shall  bring  every  thought  into  captivity  to 
the  obedience  of  faith.  Do  not  content  yourself  with  that 
philosophic,  speculative  religion,  which  may  give  God  much 
in  profession  and  in  ritual  observances,  but  reserves  the 
heart  for  the  world,  its  fashions,  and  its  customs. 

'  I  should  have  been  too  happy  in  this  world  had  God 
led  my  children  to  see  Divine  truth  as  I  think  it  ought  to 
be  discerned,  and  to  hold  fast  what  I  conceive  to  be  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  But  he  has  suffered  them,  in  my 
view,  through  the  pride  of  science  and  the  fascinations  of 
philosophy,  to  be  perverted  from  the  truth,  and  to  hold 
dangerous  errors ;  whether  he  will  ever  rescue  them  I  know 
not :  some  have  been  recovei'ed  from  these  snares,  there- 
fore I  have  hope.  I  must  leave  them  with  God.  I  have 
said  every  thing  to  my  dear  son  that  is  profitable  to  be  said. 
Nothing  will  convince  him,  and  turn  him  from  his  errors, 
but  that  still  small  voice  which  followed  the  earthquake  and 
the  fire  in  the  vision  of  Elijah  and  made  the  prophet  wrap 
his  face  in  his  mantle.  O  that  it  would  please  God  to  grant 
you  and  him,  and  all  my  children,  this  efficient  yoice,  that 
you  might  understand  me,  and  I  should  no  longer  be  to 
you  such  as  you  would  not.  But  I  must  give  myself  to 
prayer. 


430  DR.  buckminster's  correspondence 

'  I  am  sorry  for  poor  W.  He  was  a  faithful  servant  in 
my  family  many  years  ago.  Give  my  love  to  him,  and 
present  him  the  inclosed.' 

'  December,  1811. 

'My  dear  Child, —  Since  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  in  Boston,  or  of  hearing  any  thing  directly  from  you, 
you  have  voluntarily  associated  yourself  with  the  family 
and  Church  of  Christ,  and  given  yourself  to  him  as  your 
head  and  husband  ;  for  the  Church  is  his  bride,  purchased 
at  an  inestimable  price,  even  the  price  of  his  precious  blood. 
I  hope  you  have  felt  yourself  altogether  unworthy  of  this 
honor,  unworthy  even  to  be  placed  among  his  servants,  and 
that  you  have  ventured  upon  this  solemn  transaction,  be- 
cause he  has  called  you,  and  constrained  you  to  love  him, 
and  to  prefer  him  to  every  other,  even  your  chiefest  joy. 
O,  my  daughter,  if  God  has  wrought  you  to  this  self-same 
thing,  if  he  has  formed  you  to  this  temper  and  affection, 
how  happy  are  you !  How  happy  am  T,  to  have  one  of  my 
own  children,  the  children  of  my  dearest  love,  adopted  into 
the  family  of  Christ,  into  whose  heart  the  spirit  of  adoption 
is  poured  so  that  you  can  with  filial  confidence  cry  Abba, 
Father ! 

'  But  you  will  permit  the  anxiety  of  a  father  to  suggest  to 
you  that  we  must  not  rest  upon  any  external  observances, 
nor  formal  covenantings,  however  solemnly  performed,  as 
certain  evidence  of  our  gracious  state,  or  of  our  title  through 
grace  to  the  Divine  favor.  There  is  no  dispute  with  any 
who  claim  the  title  of  Christians,  that,  "  as  God  is  a  spirit, 
they  who  worship  him  must  worship  him  in  spirit  and  in 
truth."  This  claim,  which  we  may  not  disdain  nor  dispute, 
is,  "My  son,  give  me  thy  heart."  .Let  us  give  him  what 
we  may,  if  this  be  withheld,  if  his  authority  and  pleasure 
be  disputed,  and  other  objects  rival  him  in  our  love,  we  can- 
not belong  to  him  nor  he  to  us. 

'  It  is  our  duty  to  profess  religion.  "  With  the  heart  man 
believeth  unto  righteousness,  and  with  the  mouth  confession 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  431 

is  made  unto  salvation,"  but  there  is  danger  of  resting  in  the 
confession,  without  a  due  concern  that  the  faith  that  influ- 
ences it  is  seated  in  the  heart,  and  commands  and  governs 
it.  The  Apostle  Peter  exhorts  those  whom  he  addresses 
as  brethren,  and  who,  therefore,  must  be  considered  as  being 
of  the  visible  family  of  Christ,  to  give  diligence  to  make 
their  calling  and  election  sure,  which  must  mean  that  call- 
ing which  does  insure  eternal  life,  for  he  says,  "  So  an  en- 
trance shall  be  administered  to  you  abundantly  into  the  ever- 
lasting kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  who 
is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever."  Let  a  father 
entreat  you,  my  dear  child,  to  use  diligence  to  add  to  your 
faith,  virtue,  that  is,  a  holy,  heavenly  zeal  and  courage  ;  and 
to  virtue,  knowledge ;  and  to  make  your  calling  and  election 
sure.  If  you  ask  me  what  this  calling  is,  I  know  not  that 
I  can  answer  you  better  than  in  the  words  of  that  formula 
of  religious  truth  and  duty,  which  I  regret  I  did  not  more 
carefully  and  diligently  teach  my  children  when  they  were 
young,  and  which  I  wish  they  would  impartially  study  and 
compare  with  the  word  of  God,  now  they  are  older.  "  Efiec- 
tual  calling  is  a  work  of  God's  spirit,  whereby  convincing 
us  of  our  sin  and  misery,  and  enlightening  our  minds  in  the 
knowledge  of  Christ,  and  renewing  our  wills,  he  doth  per- 
suade and  enable  us  to  embrace  Jesus  Christ,  freely  offered 
to  us  in  the  Gospel."  No  one,  I  think,  can  object  to  this 
description  of  the  calling  of  God  that  is  unto  salvation,  who 
is  not  willing  to  be  satisfied  with  a  body  without  a  soul, 
or  with  a  shadow  without  the  substance.  Religion  is  the 
informing  spirit  of  the  heart,  and  shows  its  fruits  in  the  life 
and  conversation.  It  is  our  victory,  overcoming  the  world 
and  all  that  is  in  the  world,  as  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  the 
lusts  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life,  all  which  are  not  of 
religion,  but  of  the  world.  There  are  indeed  babes,  young 
men,  and  fathers,  in  Christ;  but  the  babe  has  a  principle 
of  respect  to  Christ,  though  it  may  not  be  as  strong  and 
vigorous  as  in  those  who  have  the  other  titles.     "  The  water 


432  DR.  buckminster's  correspondence 

that  I  shall  give  you,"  said  he  from  whom  all  our  good  gifts 
must  come,  "  shall  be  in  you  a  well  of  water  springing  up  to 
everlasting  life."  I  hope  that  Christ  rules  in  your  heart  and 
affections,  and  that,  although  you  do  not  separate  yourself 
from  the  world  and  the  men  of  the  world,  yet  that  they  are 
not  the  inmates  of  your  heart,  and  your  chosen  companions, 
but  that  your  delight  is  in  the  saints,  the  excellent  of  the 
earth,  and  that  you  love  to  retire  from  the  cares  and  pleas- 
ures of  the  world  to  your  Bible  and  your  closet,  that  you 
may  converse  with  Christ. 

'  Although  your  father  is  a  miserable  sinner,  who  trusts 
that  none  of  his  children  has  so  much  offended  God  as 
he  has  done,  yet  he  has  hope  that  through  grace  he  is 
a  penitent  sinner,  and  has  found  mercy  with  God  ;  and 
although  he  loathes  himself  for  his  iniquities,  yet  he  knows 
from  the  Scripture  that  the  least  sinner  must  repent,  if  he 
would  escape  perdition.  There  may  be  different  degrees 
or  intensity  of  repentance,  but  it  is  of  one  nature.  Your 
father  is  the  channel  by  which  you,  my  children,  have 
derived  corruption  and  depravity,  and  you  are  by  nature 
children  of  wrath  ;  would  your  father  not  be  a  monster,  if 
he  did  not  strive  with  you  till  Christ  be  formed  within  you  ? 
That  he  stands  in  doubt  of  you,  he  cannot  disguise,  and  that 
he  has  more  anxiety  on  this  subject  than  upon  any  other, 
he  cannot  conceal.  I  ascribe  righteousness  to  my  Maker ; 
he  is  holy  in  all  that  with  which  he  sees  fit  to  exercise  me  ; 
but  I  often  ask,  whether  he  is  not  punishing  the  vanity  and 
ambition  of  your  father  in  wishing  his  children  to  be  dis- 
tinguished by  intellectual  attainments,  by  permitting  them 
to  embrace  a  philosophic  religion,  and  hiding  from  them 
the  true  Gospel,  and  is  thus  granting  my  request  by  sending 
leanness  into  their  souls.  If  this  be  so.  Father  in  heaven 
forgive  me  and  them  ;  and  when  we  are  corrected  accord- 
ing to  thy  good  pleasure,  bring  my  children  into  the  true 
way  to  adore  Emanuel  and  enthrone  him  in  their  hearts  ! 

'  You   live,   my   dear   daughter,   in   the    atmosphere   of 


WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER.  433 

liberality  of  principle  ;  your  friends  and  visiters  are  Arians 
or  Socinians,  who  are  disposed  to  object  to  our  common 
translation  of  the  Scriptures,  and  thus  impair  their  authority 
and  influence  upon  the  minds  and  hearts  of  those  who  can 
read  no  other.  We  may  as  well  be  without  the  Scriptures 
as  not  to  have  confidence  in  them,  that  they  are  a  safe  rule 
of  faith  and  practice  ;  or  to  imagine  that  the  things  that  are 
necessary  to  our  salvation  depend  upon  verbal  criticism,  or 
the  wrangling  of  scholars  who  are  striving  for  literary  fame. 
I  was  astonished  lately  at  the  remark  of  a  person  on  this 
subject,  that  "  she  could  not  use  the  Scriptures  to  judge  of 
doctrines,  unless  she  could  read  them  in  the  original;" 
which  is  to  render  the  Scriptures  useless  to  far  the  greater 
portion  of  mankind.  I  hope  the  Socinian  and  Arian 
heresies  are  not  inconsistent  with  the  salvation  of  those  who 
are  staggered  with  them,  but  I  cannot  but  tremble  when  I 
read  the  words  of  the  Apostle  Peter,  2d  Epistle,  ii.  4, — 
"  There  shall  be  false  teachers  among  you,  who  privily 
shall  bring  in  damnable  heresies,  even  denying  the  Lord 
Jesus  that  bought  them,  bringing  upon  themselves  swift 
destruction."  If  those  who  are  affected  with  these  senti- 
ments are  subjects  of  spiritual  regeneration,  and  do  love 
God  with  a  supreme  love,  and  hate  sin  in  its  nature  as  well 
as  in  its  consequences,  they  will  be  with  God  for  ever  ; 
they  will  never  perish.  But  these  errors  are  generally 
Cjonnected  with  such  views  of  regeneration,  repentance, 
faith,  etc.,  as  do  not  issue  in  such  a  state  of  mind  and 
heart ;  and  they  so  diminish  the  evil  of  sin,  and  the 
immense  sacrifice  that  it  demanded,  that  I  fear  they  will 
never  produce  this  efiect. 

'  You  yourself  must  have  observed  that  these  sentiments 
abate  the  zeal  ;  they  cool  the  ardor  and  solicitude  of  those 
that  hold  them,  compared  with  those  who  hold  contrary  sen- 
timents ;  they  make  them  more  satisfied  with  the  form  of 
godliness,  where  there  is  little  evidence  of  the  power  of  it ; 
they  are  rarely  interested  in  subjects  that  address  the  heart 
37 


434  CORRESPONDENCE    WITH    HIS    DAUGHTER. 

or  relate  to  the  safety  of  the  soul,  and  that  grace  of  God  by 
which  its  safely  is  insured  ;  the  objects  of  their  pursuit 
and  ambition  are  in  some  sense  or  other  worldly  objects. 
This  affords  a  strong  suspicion  that  they  err  from  the  faith  ; 
for  truth  sanctifies  the  soul,  and  they  who  are  risen  with 
Christ  set  their  affections  upon  things  above. 

'  Whether  these  errors  be  consistent  with  a  state  of  grace, 
or  with  the  safety  of  the  soul,  I  know  not ;  but  this  I  know, 
that  God  can  recover  those  that  have  fallen  into  them,  for 
he  has  given  such  instances  of  his  sovereign  and  triumphant 
grace.  This  is  the  hope,  that,  like  a  distant  gleam  of  light, 
streaks  the  dark  hemisphere  that  God  has  spread  over  me. 
That  he  will  some  time  recover  your  brother  from  the  snare 
in  which  he  is  entangled,  and  bring  him  to  devote  those 
powers  and  acquirements  which  have  been  given  him,  to 
display  the  glory  of  Christ  as  God,  and  the  Saviour,  and  to 
build  again  what  he  has  aided  to  destroy,  is  the  prayer  of 
my  soul.  Whether  this  be  ever  the  case  or  not,  God  will 
be  righteous,  and  I  must  leave  it.  I  hope  my  children  will 
not  be  so  alienated  from  me  as  to  lose  their  affection  for 
me,  because  I  am  so  anxious  for  their  safety  that  I  cannot 
but  express  a  jealousy  for  them. 

'  I  do  not  censure  you,  my  daughter,  for  professing 
religion  and  joining  your  brother's  church ;  but  I  must 
charge  you,  that  you  do  not  rest  in  that  as  evidence  of  your 
religion  ;  but  see  that  you  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  yoiu- 
mind,  and  possess  a  new  nature  as  well  as  a  new  name. 
Let  your  heart  be  devoted  to  God.  Covet  the  society  of 
those  that  love  Christ  and  are  sincere  in  his  praise. 

'  I  have  written  thus  largely  to  you,  my  daughter,  in  the 
fulness  of  my  heart.  Can  you  think  it  is  because  I  love 
you  not  ?  God  knoweth  !  We  shall  probably  never  be 
much  more  together  in  this  world.  O,  my  child,  let  us  be 
prepared  to  live  with  Christ  in  the  world  to  come  ! 

'  J.   BUCKMINSTEE.' 


REMARKS    UPON    THE    CORRESPONDENCE.  435 

It  will  be  seen,  by  the  preceding  letters,  that  neither 
fatlier  nor  son  had  changed  his  views  since  the  writing 
of  the  former  letters  previons  to  the  settlement  of  the 
son.  He,  who  had  always  felt  too  mnch  reverence 
and  childlike  submission  to  his  father  to  enter  into 
controversy,  or  even  to  defend  his  own  views,  seems 
at  length,  in  the  last  letter  he  ever  wrote,  to  have  re- 
solved to  take  up  the  other  side  ;  or,  as  he  expresses 
it,  to  present  the  opposite  of  that  which  he  calls  'the 
revolting  forms  of  Calvinism.'  Had  not  death  inter- 
vened, we  might  have  been  able  to  read  in  his  own 
words  the  result  of  his  life-long  inquiries,  —  his  faith- 
ful, thorough^  and  conscientious  investigation  of  the 
texts  and  authorities  upon  which  Calvinism  rests  its 
claims.  Death  interposed,  and,  within  twenty-four 
hours  of  time,  placed  them  face  to  face,  without  a 
veil  between,  where  they  could  read  the  sublime  and 
indelible  characters  of  eternal  truth. 

Perhaps  it  may  not  be  arrogant  to  say,  that  this 
father  and  son  presented  an  epitome  of  that  greater 
controversy  which  afterwards  divided  the  Church 
and  community.  It  may  here  be  seen,  divested  of 
all  bitterness  and  wrath,  and  wrung  reluctantly  from 
both.  Both  were  equal  lovers  of  the  truth,  both 
sought  it  with  a  single  purpose,  and  to  both  it  was 
the  vital  element  of  thought  ;  and  we  do  them  only 
justice  to  believe,  that,  had  they  lived  in  an  earlier 
age  of  the  Church,  both  would  have  sealed  their 
confession  with  their  death. 

The  father  received  his  education  at  Yale  College 
at  the  beginning  of  the  war  of  the  Revolution,  when, 
to  use  the  words  of  a  son  of  Yale,  '  The  religious  state 
of  the  college  was  very  low,  and  it  must  have  been 


436  RELIGIOUS    DIFFERENCES. 

from  high  spirituality  of  feeling  that  any  young  man 
would,  at  that  time,  devote  himself  to  the  ministry.' 
His  own  religious  convictions  Avere,  however,  at  that 
time  strong,  deep,  and  lasting.  We  quote  from  an 
author  who  probably  received  the  information  from 
Dr.  Buckminster  himself,  that,  'before  he  left  New 
Haven,  he  was  under  deep  conviction.  He  almost 
sank  in  despair,  but  obtained  the  glorious  hope  that 
he  had  passed  from  death  unto  life.  It  was  then  his 
purpose,  as  it  was  afterwards  his  greatest  delight,  to 
consecrate  his  time,  his  talents,  his  acquirements  to 
the  cause  and  interest  of  the  Redeemer.'*  It  was  at 
this  time,  doubtless,  that  he  wrote  the  confession  of 
faith  and  form  of  self-dedication  to  the  service  of 
God  which  appears  on  pages  20-25.  This  is  a  con- 
fession of  pure  Calvinism.  That  his  views  were 
afterwards  somewhat  modified  appears  from  his  not 
adopting  the  Assembly's  Catechism  for  his  eldest 
children ;  and  that  these  views  had  not  the  supreme 
importance  in  his  mind  at  one  period,  may  be  inferred 
from  the  little  prominence  that  is  given  to  them  in 
the  prayers  of  the  'Piscataqua  Prayer-Book.'  From 
causes  obvious  to  the  writer,  but  which  cannot  be 
mentioned  here,  Dr.  Buckminster  became  more  anx- 
ious, in  the  fast  years  of  his  life,  to  enforce  his  own 
peculiar  Calvinistic  faith;  and  it  cannot  be  asserted, 
that,  at  any  time,  there  was  any  essential  change 
from  that  early  confession  of  faith.  After  his  settle- 
ment over  a  parish,  he  certainly  did  not  pursue  any 
critical  or  Biblical  studies,  except  in  the  common 
version  of  the  English  Bible.     The  writer  does  not 

*  Rev.  Timothy  Alden,  of  Portsmouth. 


RELIGIOUS    DIFFERENCES  437 

recollect  his  ever  reverting  to  any  other.  His  parish 
was  large,  and  he  was  extremely  devoted  to  parish 
duties.  He  could  not  be  called  a  student,  in  any 
sense  of  the  word,  except  so  far  as  writing  sermons 
requires  study.  He  wrote  a  large,  a  very  large,  num- 
ber of  sermons,  and  probably  made  some  mental 
preparation  for  his  extemporaneous  addresses.  But 
his  library  and  study-table  furnished  none  of  the 
means,  as  his  constant  devotion  to  his  parish  left  no 
leisure,  for  critical  researches  or  learned  investigation ; 
and,  in  his  letters  to  his  daughter,  he  deprecates  '  the 
pride  of  science  and  the  wrangling  of  scholars,'  and 
avows  the  English  Bible  sufficient  for  all  purposes  of 
the  knowledge  of  God. 

The  early  years  of  his  son  were  passed  under  all 
the  influences  of  his  father's  faith,  enforced  and 
strengthened  by  the  example  of  his  father's  devout 
and  eminently  pious  life;  and  we  have  seen  that  his 
own  genial  nature  was  not  susceptible  of  gloom  or 
superstition,  although  he  was  at  a  very  early  age  a 
thoughtful  and  deeply  reflective  youth.  The  religion 
that  he  learned  from  his  father  was  associated  with 
all  his  youthful  feelings  of  devotion,  and  was  proba- 
bly very  dear  to  his  young  affections.  It  must  have 
been  by  gradual  processes,  as  his  understanding  and 
reason  developed  and  his  inquiries  advanced,  that  Cal- 
vinism lost  its  hold  upon  his  affections,  as  it  did  upon 
his  intellect. 

We  have  seen  that  he  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  languages  in  which  the  Scriptures  were  written, 
and  one  of  the  most  distinguished  classical  scholars 
that  Harvard  ever  sent  forth  from  its  honored  shades. 
It  must  have  been  from  the  love  of  truth,  that  he  was 


438  CRITICAL    STUDY    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES. 

led  to  investigate  conscientiously,  as  he  did,  the 
original  meaning  of  the  words  in  which  the  Bible 
was  written  ;  to  compare  texts  and  commentators  ;  to 
go  back  to  the  very  fonntain-head ;  to  procure  the 
earliest  copies  of  the  Scriptures,  and  to  spend  days, 
and  weeks,  and  months,  and  years  in  efforts  to  restore 
the  text  to  its  original  purity,  with  all  the  helps  he 
could  derive,  not  only  from  Biblical  scholars,  the 
ancient  fathers,  and  the  earliest  teachers  of  the 
Church,  but  by  the  help  also  of  learned  commentators 
upon  what  are  called  the  profane  writers.  He  made 
the  Greek  language  his  study  till  the  day  of  his 
death,  in  order  to  give  its  help  to  his  conscientious 
inquiries;  and  although  his  principles  of  interpreta- 
tion, and  many  of  his  reasonings,  are  not  those  of  a 
large  number  of  Biblical  critics,  his  candor,  and  hon- 
esty, and  sincerity  have  never  been  called  in  question. 
An  extract  from  his  journal  will  show  that  he  made 
the  daily  duty  of  domestic  worship  a  subsidiary  aid 
to  his  own  studies  and  researches.  It  is  immediately 
after  his  settlement:  —  '  I  have  commenced  reading 
Doddridge's  Family  Expositor  in  the  morning,  before 
family  prayers  ;  I  read  the  text  and  notes,  with  the 
improvement,  before  the  domestics  are  called  in  to 
hear  the  prayer.  After  breakfast,  I  examine  the  diffi- 
cult passages  in  other  commentators,  especially  in 
Whitby,  and  read  the  original  Greek,  and  Wakefield's 
or  some  other  translation.' 

His  library  was  dispersed,  by  public  sale,  after  his 
death  ;  but  could  some  of  the  books  that  were  his 
daily  study  have  been  preserved  together,  it  would 
have  been  seen  how  faithful  and  exact  was  his  read- 
ing.    He  read  with  pencil  or  pen  in  his  hand,  and 


CKITICAL    STUDY    OF    THE    SCRIPTURES.  439 

many  of  his  books  were  interleaved  for  the  purpose 
of  making  his  own  remarks  or  those  of  others  as  he 
read.  An  interleaved  Grotius  De  Veritate  is  now  in 
the  possession  of  the  writer,  which  shows  his  careful 
and  faithful  research.  It  will  be  seen  in  the  Appen- 
dix that  he  Avas  lavish  in  his  expenditure  to  procure 
ancient  copies  of  the  Scriptures,  and  that  his  little 
fortune  was  spent  in  obtaining  the  books  which  he 
felt  were  requisite  to  enable  him  to  come  to  a  know- 
ledge of  the  truth.  His  researches  sent  him  back 
behind  synods  and  councils  ;  behind  King  James's 
translation  of  the  Bible  ;  behind  Calvin  and  Luther, 
Athanasius  and  St.  Augustine,  to  the  simplicity  of 
the  primitive  Church,  to  the  faith  of  the  Apostles 
and  the  teaching  of  Christ.  That  with  all  these  aids, 
and  this  faithful  study,  the  son's  investigations  re- 
sulted in  a  firm  and  decided  faith  in  that  form  of 
Christianity  which  has  since  been  called  Unitarian- 
ism,  and  that  it  was  painful  to  both  father  and  son 
thus  to  differ,  is  equally  honorable  to  both.  Both 
were  lovers  of  truth,  both  conscientious,  and  yet  they 
differed  ioto  coslo  in  their  speculative  belief.  Who 
shall  say  that  the  son  was  not  as  honest  and  sincere 
as  the  father?  that  conscience  and  honor  did  not 
enter  as  fully  into  his  studies  as  into  those  of  his 
father  ?  that  devotion  to  God,  and  love  to  man,  were 
not  as  much  the  moving  springs  in  his,  as  in  his 
father's  soul  ? 

The  results  to  which  each  had  come  they  both 
taught  unreservedly,  —  the  son  with  as  much  open- 
ness as  the  father,  but  without  giving  himself  a 
name  ;  and  perhaps  it  was  the  wish  and  hope  of  those 
who  early  departed  from  Calvinism  to  receive  no  sec- 


440  PRACTICAL    RELIGION. 

tarian  name,  —  to  belong  to  that  anti-sectarian  sect, 
'whose  religion,'  according  to  Dr.  Kirkland,  'con- 
sisted in  being  religious.'  His  preaching  met  the 
wants  of  the  multitudes  who  thronged  to  hear  him. 
Those  who  had  found  Calvinism  insufficient  for  the 
wants  of  the  soul,  and  were  tempted,  like  the  young 
person  to  whose  letter  he  refers,  '  to  wish,  that,  if 
such  representations  of  Christianity  were  a  just  pic- 
ture of  what  should  be  a  most  beneficent  religion, 
they  would  be  glad  to  find  it  not  true,'  —  such  persons 
were  nourished  and  made  better  by  his  preaching. 

The  truth,  in  relation  to  father  and  son,  seemed 
to  demand  that  the  above  rem.arks  should  be  made, 
not  because,  in  the  humble  view  of  the  writer,  Cal- 
vinism or  Unitarianism  are  essential  forms  of  Chris- 
tianity, but  in  anticipation  of  that  time,  when  religion 
will  not  be  wholly  concerned  with  speculative  doc- 
trines, but  with  the  life  of  truth ;  and  that  life  not 
manifested  by  the  mere  externals  of  particular  forms 
or  even  of  charities,  but  by  the  beauty  of  holiness, — 
the  exhibition  of  the  beauty  of  the  perfect  law,  the 
life  of  God  in  the  soul  of  man. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

DEATH  OF  REV.   MR.  EMERSON. APPOINTMENT  OF  J.  S.  BUCK- 
MINSTER  AS  LECTURER    UPON    THE    DEXTER   FOUNDATION  IN 

HARVARD   COLLEGE. STUDY   OF  GERMAN. INTELLECTUAL 

CHARACTER  AND  HABITS.  LAST  ILLNESS. 

1811.  In  May  of   1811.   died  the   Rev.  William 

Aged  27.  Emerson,  pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Bos- 
ton. This  church,  and  that  in  Brattle  Street,  had 
been  associated  together  in  the  interchange  of  their 
sacramental  lectures,  each  pastor  preaching  in  the 
pulpit  of  the  other  in  the  afternoon  of  the  Sabbath  of 
the  Lord's  Supper.  This  was  an  endearing  inter- 
change of  ministerial  duties,  and,  to  one  as  susceptible 
of  all  Christian  charities  as  was  the  pastor  of  Brattle 
Street,  it  was  sufficient  to  bind  Mr.  Emerson  to  him 
in  tender  relations.  My  brother  preached  the  funeral 
sermon,  and,  in  reverting  to  the  circumstance  that  the 
pastors  of  the  two  churches  had  alternately  officiated 
at  each  other's  obsequies,  a  prophetic  foreboding 
escaped  him,  that  he  should  next  follow  his  brother. 
A  personal  feeling  of  regretful  resignation  selected 
the  words  which  he  introduced  towards  the  close  of 
the  sermon,  — 

'0,  'tis  well 
With  him  !     But  who  knows  what  the  coming  hour, 
Veiled  in  thick  darkness,  brings  for  us  ? ' 


442       SERMON    ON    THE    DEATH    OF    REV.    MR.    EMERSON. 

In  this  sermon  he  spoke  of  the  value  of  posthumous 
reputation. 

'  Though  one  of  the  most  common,  it  is  still  one  of  the 
sweetest,  rewards  of  acknowledged  and  respected  virtue,  to 
leave  the  minds  of  survivors  turning  involuntarily  towards 
the  contemplation  of  that  worth  which  they  are  no  longer 
to  enjoy.  Then  the  excellences  of  the  departed  take  full 
possession  of  our  imaginations  ;  and  we  find  ourselves 
engaged  in  calling  up  their  merits,  which,  because  we 
had  so  little  fear  of  losing,  we  had,  perhaps,  undervalued, 
or  not  fully  regarded.  Then,  when  we  find  them  no  more 
in  the  places  which  once  knew  them,  recollection  is  busy 
about  the  spots  which  they  frequented,  and  there  start  up 
a  thousand  affecting  remembrances  of  their  character  and 
manners.  When  we  are  called  upon  to  supply  their  places, 
the  task  is  found  more  painful  and  difficult  than  we  had 
imagined  ;  and  we  begin  to  wish  that  we  had  valued  them 
more,  and  loved  them  better,  as  well  as  enjoyed  them 
longer.  The  void  left  by  the  death  of  good  men  time  does 
not  fill,  indeed,  but  only  throws  further  back  into  the 
retrospect.  We  come  to  their  last  obsequies  with  unwonted 
fondness  ;  our  lips  are  ready  to  show  forth  their  praise  ;  our 
aflections  linger  about  their  graves ;  we  feel  more  than  ever 
that  we  are  "  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  the  earth,"  and  wish 
more  than  ever  to  "  die  the  death  of  the  righteous." 

'This  sentiment  of  posthumous  regard,  so  tender,  and 
yet  so  strong,  is  the  reward  only  of  genuine  worth,  and  is 
entirely  different  from  those  demonstrations  of  respect  which 
are  paid  to  men  who  have  enjoyed  the  more  distinction 
during  life  the  less  intimately  they  were  known,  and  whom 
we  consent  to  bury  with  honor,  to  avoid  the  further  expres- 
sion of  our  real  opinion.  He  whose  remains  are  now  before 
us  has  left  many  bowed  down  with  unaffected  grief,  who 
come  prepared  and  willing  now  to  dwell  awhile  on  his 
character.     Affection  and  faithful   memory,  therefore,  will 


SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  HON.  JABIES  BOWDOIN.       443 

supply  whatever  may  be  wanting  in  the  following  remarks, 
which  are  made  with  something  of  that  restraint  which 
would  be  felt  if  the  departed  were  capable  of  now  listening 
to  the  speaker.  For  there  is  something  sacred  in  the 
presence  of  his  remains,  to  which  reverence  and  modesty 
are  due,  no  less  than  truth  and  affection.' 

In  October  of  this  year  died  the  Hon.  James  Bow- 
doin.  He  had  ever  been  a  member  of.  and  a  bene- 
factor to,  the  church  of  Brattle  Street.^  It  was  in  his 
family  that  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street  was  received 
with  so  much  kindness,  while  the  former  was  ambas- 
sador, and  tlie  latter  was  visiting  Paris  in  1806.  To 
him,  and  to  Mrs.  Bowdoin,  was  he  continually  in- 
debted for  the  expression  of  a  warm  and  most  affec- 
tionate friendship.  A  part  of  the  sermon  preached 
the  Sabbath  after  his  interment  was  published,  the 
closing  paragraphs  of  which  are  here  inserted. 

'But  I  see  before  me  an  object t  which  admonishes  us  that 
the  usual  time  of  service  has  elapsed,  while  we  have  been 
speaking  of  him  whose  name  it  bears.  Once  it  reminded 
us  of  his  bounty  ;  now  it  reminds  us  of  his  departure.  Once 
it  told  us  that  he  remembered  us ;  now  it  calls  on  us  to 
remember   him.     Lately  it   measured   the   hand-breadth   of 

his  age,  as  it  now  measures  our  own  ; but  to  him 

hours  and  weeks  and  days  and  years  revolve  no  more  !  He 
has  entered  on  an  unmeasurable  period  ! 

'How  fair  an  emblem  is  this  of  man  himself;  —  always 

*  Mr.  Eowdoin,  in  his  will,  left  fifty  pounds  to  the  church  in  Brat- 
Square,  and  fifty  to  the  pastor. 

t  The  former  clock  in  the  church  in  Brattle  Square  was  given  by 
Governor  tiovvdoin  ;  but  as  it  was  old  and  much  out  of  repair,  the  late 
Mr.  Bowdoin  replaced  it  not  long  before  his  death  by  the  present 
time-piece. 


444       SERMON  ON  THE   DEATH  OF  HON.  JAMES  BOWDOIN. 

passing  on,  yet  unconscious  of  his  own  motion  !  'When  we 
fix  our  attention  on  the  moment  which  is  passing,  we  seem 
to  arrest  it.  We  discern  no  lapse.  All  appears  stationary, 
and  the  time  is  long  and  tedious.  But  let  us  withdraw  our 
attention  from  the  dial,  and  yield  ourselves  for  a  few 
moments  to  the  usual  succession  of  thoughts,  and  when 
we  return  again  to  examine  the  index  of  our  time,  what  a 
space  has  been  traversed  ! 

'  Is  it  possible  that  a  minute  can  be  made  to  appear  so 
long  by  attention  ?  How  long,  then,  might  the  whole  of 
life   be   made   to   appear,  would  we   but   attend  to   it,  and 

vigilantly  mark  and  improve  the  hours! But  that 

steady  monitor  proceeds,  whether  we  mark  or  not  its  motion. 
Here,  in  the  place  of  our  solemnities,  it  measures  off  some 
of  the  most  important  portions  of  life.  Presently  the 
shadows  of  the  evening  will  rest  on  this  holy  place,  and 
this  house  be  emptied  of  its  worshippers.  Presently,  after 
a  few  more  revolutions  of  those  unconscious  indexes,  not 
one  of  these  worshippers  will  be  heard  of  on  earth.  The 
places  which  now  know  them  will  know  them  no  more  for 
ever ;  and  when  it  is  asked.  Where  are  they  ?  the  answer 
must  be.  They  are  gone  to  appear  before  God  ! 

'  Lord,  make  us  to  know  the  measure  of  our  days 

to  mark  the  shadow  of  our  lives !  For  man  that  is  born  of 
woman  flceth  as  a  shadow  and  continueth  not.' 

One  other  production  of  his  pen  belonging  to  this 
year  or  the  preceding,  is  a  memorial  addressed  to  the 
Overseers  of  the  College,  upon  the  subject  nearest  his 
heart,  a  professorship  of  sacred  literature.  This  is  an 
eloquent  paper ;  but  as  the  object,  holding  in  his  esti- 
mation so  profound  an  interest,  was  this  year  effected, 
this  memorial  could  have  had  but  a  passing  interest. 

His  sermons  this  year  were  not  inferior  in  interest 
to  any  that  he  had  preached.     By  a  memorandum, 


APPOINTMENT  AS  LECTURER  ON  BIBLICAL  CRITICISM.    445 

preserved  among  his  papers,  it  appears  that  he  wrote, 
ill  the  course  of  the  year,  fifty-seven,  and  preached  in 
his  own  pulpit  sixty-nine  times. 

'This  year,  1811,  he  received  a  proof  of  the  estimation 
in  which  his  knowledge  in  his  favorite  walk  of  study  was 
held,  by  his  appointment  as  first  lecturer  on  Biblical  criti- 
cism, upon  the  foundation  established  by  the  Hon.  Samuel 
Dexter.  This  appointment  was  universally  thought  to  be 
an  honor  most  justly  due  to  his  preeminent  attainments  in 
this  science.'  * 

His  reply  to  the  letter  of  appointment  was  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

'To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Kirkland,  President  of  the  University  in 
Cambridge  :  — 

'Sir,  —  I  have  received  from  you  the  official  notice  of 
my  unexpected  appointment  to  the  office  of  first  lecturer 
on  the  Dexter  foundation.  The  trustees  will  please  to 
accept  my  acknowledgments  for  the  honor  which  they  have 
conferred,  and  of  which  you.  Sir,  have  informed  me  in  a 
manner  that  deserves  my  gratitude.  Nothing,  beside  the 
customaiy  pleas  of  want  of  leisure  and  abilities,  has  occur- 
red to  me  as  a  peculiar  objection  to  my  acceptance  of  this 
duty,  except  the  previous  conviction  tliat  the  introductory 
lectures,  on  this  difficult  subject,  should  be  entrusted  to  some 
one  whose  age  and  acknowledged  merits  in  theology  would 
gain  for  them  more  consideration  than  will  probably  be 
secured  by  the  present  appointment. 

'  If  this  suggestion  has  already  received  the  full  considera- 
tion which  it  seems  to  me  to  deserve,  and  of  which,  but  for 
the  result  of  your  meeting,  I  should  have  no  doubt,  I  am 
ready  to  submit  to  the  final  opinion  of  those  whom  I  have 

*  Thacher's  Memoir. 
38 


446    APPOINTMENT  AS  LECTURER  ON  BIBLICAL  CRITICISM. 

always  been  accustomed  to  respect,  and,  if  they  should 
so  determine,  prepare  myself,  as  well  as  the  time  allowed, 
and  my  own  health,  will  permit,  to  execute  the  duties  of 
the  appointment.' 

My  brother   received    this  appointment   with  the 
highest  gratification ;  although  there  is  no  doubt  of 
the  sincerity  and  real  diffidence  with  which  he  sug- 
gested   that    some    older   theologian    should    deliver 
the    introductory  lectures.     He   began   an  extensive 
preparation  with  the  greatest  ardor,  and  by  a  minute 
review  of  his  former  reading.     He  immediately  sent 
a  large  order  to  Germany  for  books,  and  began  the 
study  of  the  German   language  with  such  intensity 
of  interest  as  to  deprive  him  of  sleep.     Every  hour 
of  the  day  was  occupied  with  its  appropriate  duty  ; 
but,  to  secure  the  acquisition  of  German,  he  made  the 
effort   of  rising  two   hours  earlier    in    the   morning, 
intending  to  retire  earlier  at  night.     The  master  was 
engaged  for  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the  pupil 
was  usually  ready  ;  but  it  was  impossible  to  keep  the 
second  part  of  the  resolution,  —  that  of  retiring  early. 
Like  all  persons  of  ardent  and  nervous  temperament, 
the  fear  of  sleeping  too  late,  and  the  intensity  of  inter- 
est in  a  new  study,  deprived  him  of  the  blessed  re- 
freshment of  sleep,  at  the  very  time  he  most  needed 
its  restorative  powers.     His  sister  writes,  in  a  letter 
of  this  date  :  — '  Joseph,  I  fear,  will  make  himself  ill, 
for  he  has  taken  it  into  his  head   to  study  German, 
and,  for  this  purpose,  has  a  master  with  him  from  six 
to  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.     It  is  true  he  has 
generally  gone  to  bed  rather  before  his  regular  time ; 
but   he   is  so   much   interested,  that  he   sleeps  very 
little.' 


STUDY    OF    GERMAN.  447 

It  was  in  consequence  of  the  appointment  of  lec- 
turer that  he  began  the  study  of  German.  It  appears, 
by  a  letter  to  Dr.  Herbert  Marsh,  of  the  preceding 
year,  that  it  had  been  hitherto  precluded  by  other 
studies. 

'May  13th,  1810. 

'Sir,  —  I  have  no  excuse  to  offer  for  the  presumption 
of  directing  these  lines  to  you,  except  admiration  of  your 
learning,  gratitude  for  your  labors,  and  the  persuasion 
that  it  will  not  be  disagreeable  to  you  to  receive  from  this 
remote  region  an  edition  of  Griesbach's  Greek  Testament, 
executed  with  care  and  accuracy.  It  is  copied,  page  for 
page,  from  Goschen's  octavo  edition,  Leipsic,  1^05,  which 
1  was  so  fortunate  as  to  bring  with  me  from  Europe,  and 
to  persuade  the  government  of  our  University,  at  Cambridge, 
to  reprint  and  introduce  as  a  text-book.  The  young  gentle- 
man who  gives  you  this  note  *  is  intended  for  a  preacher, 
and  proposes  to  finish  his  studies  at  Edinburgh.  But,  as 
soon  as  I  learned  that  you  had  commenced  a  course  of 
lectures  at  Cambridge,  I  admitted  the  hope  that  some  of  my 
young  countrymen  might  have  the  privilege  of  hearing 
them  ;  upon  what  terms  this  may  be  obtained  I  have  re- 
quested him  to  inquire,  and,  if  possible,  avail  himself  of 
this  opportunity. 

'I  had  the  happiness  of  spending  a  few  days  at  Cam- 
bridge in  the  summer  of  1807,  but  you  were  absent.  By 
the  kindness  of  Dr.  Abthorp,  and  his  friends,  of  Emanuel 
College,  I  received  every  attention,  which  I  remember  with 
the  utmost  kindness  and  gratitude.  But,  Sir,  I  feel  under 
inexpressible  obligations  to  you  for  the  translation  of 
Michaelis,  which  has  made  a  new  era  in  my  mind,  and  I 
am  almost  ashamed  to  express  the  impatience  with  which 
I  anticipate  the  conclusion  of  your  notes. 

'  Such  is  the  extent  of  my  parish,  and  the  variety  of  my 

*  Rev.  Francis  Parkman,  D.  D.,  of  Boston. 


448  HABITS    OF    STUDY, 

duties  to  that,  as  well  as  to  society  at  large,  that  I  have 
neither  time  nor  courage  at  present  for  the  acquisition  of 
the  German  language.  And  yet  there  are  several  points 
of  theological  inquiry  which  I  burn  to  explore,  and  I  would 
willingly  relinquish  all  knowledge  of  French  for  this  single 
acquisition.  But  at  present  I  feel  condemned  to  painful 
ignorance,  encouraging  myself  with  the  hope  that  you,  or 
some  of  your  pupils,  will  soon  do  that  for  Eichhorn  which 
you  have  done  so  well  for  Michael  is.' 

It  would  be  perhaps  a  fruitless  wish  to  endeavor  to 
give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  intensity  of  interest 
with  which  he  pursued  his  new  study,  and  all  the 
studies  connected  with  his  new  object.  His  love  of 
study  had  always  been  the  passion  of  his  soul,  and 
accounts  for  a  peculiarity  of  manner  mentioned  by 
his  former  biographer. 

'Though  he  was  eminently  and  habitually  cheerful,'  says 
Mr.  Thacher,  '  there  were  occasional  inequalities  in  his 
manner ;  and  there  were  moments  when  there  appeared 
in  him  a  sort  of  reserve,  and  want  of  interest  in  those 
about  him,  which  made  his  character  misunderstood  by 
some  who,  if  they  had  known  him  more,  would  have  found 
him  formed  to  engage  all  their  esteem  and  love.  These 
occasional  departures  from  his  habitual  manners  were,  I 
am  confident,  to  be  traced  to  his  bodily  indisposition.  Many 
of  his  friends,  who  have  entered  his  room  when  he  was 
suffering  under  this  effect  of  disease,  well  remember,  that, 
after  a  few  moments'  conversation,  he  would  shake  off  the 
oppression  of  his  languor,  his  wonted  smile  would  play  over 
his  features,  that  peculiar  animation  which  usually  lighted 
up  his  countenance  would  again  break  out,  and  he  would 
enter  into  any  subject  proposed  with  the  warmest  and 
liveliest  interest.' 


INTELLECTUAL    HABITS.  449 

I  should  give  a  different  solution  of  his  apparent 
absence  of  manner  at  some  moments.  He  was  a 
thorough  student.  His  heart  was  in  his  studies. 
When  he  was  employed  with  his  books,  during  the 
day,  he  was  perpetually  withdrawn  from  them  by 
the  various  interruptions  of  business  and  friends. 
When,  therefore,  he  was  broken  in  upon,  while  his 
attention  was  wholly  absorbed  by  some  favorite  study, 
he  could  not  immediately  recover  the  elasticity  of  his 
mind,  and  enter  into  a  subject  wholly  foreign,  or  into 
the  cares  or  the  pleasures  of  his  visiter.  That  he  had 
moments  of  deep  depression,  when  he  reflected  upon 
the  probable  consequences  of  his  malady,  is,  no  doubt, 
true;  but  he  never  allowed  himself  in  any  morbid 
contemplation  of  possible  evils.  His  faith  in  the 
beneficence  of  God  was  the  ruling  influence  of  his 
mind.  I  cannot  so  well  describe  his  intellectual 
habits  as  in  the  words  of  the  elegant  biograp'hy  to 
which  I  have  been  so  often  indebted. 

'  In  his  intellectual  habits,  I  do  not  remember  to  have 
remarked  any  singularity.  He  was  a  Teal  student.  He 
had  that  first  requisite  of  all  true  and  durable  greatness, — 
the  habit  of  patient  and  long-continued  attention.  He 
possessed  the  genuine  (ptXonorlu,  the  love  of  labor  for  itself. 
He  could  delight  in  the  driest  and  most  minute  researches, 
as  well  as  in  the  lofty  and  ethereal  visions  of  fancy.  Like 
the  majority  of  men  of  learning,  he  loved  to  read  more  than 
to  think,  and  to  think  more  than  to  write.  He  composed 
with  rapidity,  but  with  intellectual  toil ;  and  his  best  efforts 
were  not  made  without  a  high  degree  of  mental  excitement. 
If  I  were  required  to  state,  in  one  word,  in  what  branch  of 
knowledge  his  excellence  was  most  conspicuous,  I  should 
say  it  was  philology,  —  understanding  by  this  word  the 
38* 


450  PHILOLOGICAL    STUDIES. 

knowledge  of  language  as  an  instrument  of  thought,  in  all 
its  propriety  and  force,  as  well  as  in  all  its  shades  and 
varieties  of  meaning ;  in  its  general  theory,  as  well  as  in 
its  modifications  in  different  countries ;  and,  finally,  in  all  its 
grace  and  beauty,  as  it  is  fitted  to  invest  truth  in  its  richest 
and  most  attractive  dress. 

'  But  it  was  the  light  which  philology  pours  on  the  records 
of  our  faith  and  hope,  which  gave  it  its  chief  value  to  the 
mind  of  Mr.  Buckminster.  It  was  the  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tui'es  in  their  original  languages,  which  most  powerfully 
seized  and  occupied  his  attention,  and  engaged  him  in  a 
course  of  inquiries  which  he  never  thought  himself  at 
liberty  long  to  desert.  He  was  always  of  opinion  that 
the  principles  of  ^Christianity,  in  their  original  purity  and 
simplicity,  were  to  be  preserved  where  they  are  already 
held,  and  recalled  where  they  are  lost  or  obscured,  only 
by  the  study  of  the  Bible,  according  to  the  maxims  of  a 
sound,  and  enlightened,  and  cautious  criticism.  One  of 
his  strongest  passions  was  a  desire  to  diffuse  a  love  of 
Biblical  studies  ;  and  the  impulse,  among  us,  which  has 
lately  been  given  to  inquiries  on  these  subjects,  is  to  be 
attributed  to  his  exertions  and  example.'  * 

To  the  above  I  am  permitted  to  add  the  testimony 
of  one  who  knew  him  well,  and  who  was  eminently 
able  to  appreciate  his  attainments. f 

'  Mr.  Buckminster  was  a  thorough  scholar,  and  always  a 
diligent  student,  hi  theology,  he  belonged  to  the  class  of 
liberal  inquirers.  But,  though  deeply  sensible  of  his  duty 
to  dei'ive  his  faith  from  the  Christian  Scriptures,  and  un- 
willing to  submit  his  understanding  to  the  dictation  of 
others,  he  had  too  strong  a  mind,  and  far  too  much  learn- 
ing, as  well  as  too   profound  a  sense  of  responsibility,  to 

*  Thacher's  Memoir.  |  Mr.  William  Wells. 


INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER.  451 

permit  of  his  embracing  any  of  those  wild  opinions  which 
are  supposed,  by  those  who  hold  them,  to  be  modern  dis- 
coveries, but  which  he  knew  had  been  long  ago  examined 
and  refuted.  He  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  writings 
of  the  eminent  English  Unitarians  of  the  last  century,  and 
held  them  in  high  estimation,  not  only  for  having  done  so 
much  towards  the  introduction  and  establishment  of  liberal 
inquiries  in  England,  but  as  having  introduced  into  this 
country  those  principles  of  Scripture  interpretation  which 
have  spread  so  widely,  and  to  the  support  and  dissemination 
of  which  he  himself  contributed  so  eminently  and  largely.' 

The  various  accounts  wliich  have  been  given  of 
my  brother's  studies  indicate  very  distinctly  the 
character  of  his  intellect ;  they  enable  us  to  anticipate 
what  he  would  have  accomplished  had  his  life  been 
spared,  and  the  influence  he  might  have  exerted  upon 
the  literature  of  the  country.  His  mind  was  not  of 
that  lofty  character  which  can  dwell  perpetually  in 
abstractions,  and  win  for  itself  glory  in  metaphysical 
and  mathematical  science.  His  mind  was  rapid  and 
clear  in  its  operations,  and  both  inventive  and  illustra- 
tive ;  correct,  acute,  and  thorough  in  criticism.  He 
was  able  to  compass,  by  a  rapid  intellectual  survey, 
directed  by  quick  moral  perceptions,  that  which  the 
moral  reasoner  arrives  at  by  slow  and  laborious  pro- 
cesses. I  avail  myself  here  of  the  words  of  a  friend 
and  classmate,*  in  describing  the  character  of  his 
intellect. 

*  I  confine  myself,'  says  his  friend,  '  principally  to  lite- 
rature, in  the  limited  and  appropriate  signification  of  the 
term.     He  was  not  a  man  of  science,  as  that  term  is  techni- 

*  Rev.  Joshua  Bates,  D.  D. 


452  INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER. 

cally  used.  The  mathematics  he  did  not  love.  He  had  no 
taste  for  abstract  studies,  and  in  this  early  part  of  his  life  he 
manifested  an  aversion  to  metaphysical  speculations  and 
transcendental  flio;hts  of  fancy.  It  is  true,  he  made  himself 
acquainted  with  what  may  be  called  the  "  literature  of  sci- 
ence." He  knew  the  origin,  the  progress,  the  state,  indeed 
the  whole  history,  of  every  science  of  the  age.  He  could 
tell  who  made  each  discovery,  and  who  was  the  inventor 
of  the  instruments,  and  what  were  the  appliances  by  which 
it  was  made.  He  could  speak  learnedly  of  the  character 
and  merits  of  the  philosophers  of  all  ages  and  countries, 
and  beautifully  illustrate  the  topics  of  literature  on  which 
he  descanted  by  appropriate  allusions  to  the  success  of 
scientific  principles.  But  here  his  intercourse  with  the 
sciences,  especially  the  abstract  sciences,  ended.  The 
principles  themselves  he  never  investigated.  The  details 
of  classification  and  the  tedious  st#{)s  of  demonstration  he 
never  pursued.  He  had  no  taste  for  the  study  of  the  pure 
mathematics,  nor  did  he  relish  at  all  the  tardy  and  en- 
tangled processes  of  logical  deduction  and  metaphysical 
disquisition. 

'  At  the  period  of  our  college  life,  very  little  oral  instruc- 
tion was  imparted  to  the  students.  Two  public  lectures 
were  delivered,  and  no  familiar  illustrations  were  given  in 
connection  with  the  study  of  the  prescribed  text-books. 
Of  course,  the  acquisitions  of  students  depended  very  much 
on  their  own  efforts  and  ingenuity.  Every  one  had  much 
time  to  devote  to  studies  of  his  own  choice,  and  the  educa- 
tion obtained  by  any  was,  much  more  than  at  present, 
self-education.  The  kind  and  degree  of  each  one's  attain- 
ment corresponded  very  nearly  with  his  taste,  capacity,  and 
efforts,  his  genius  and  industry.  This  fact  made  Mr.  Buck- 
minster  a  man  of  literature  rather  than  of  science  ;  a  scholar 
of  high  order,  but  not  of  universal  attainments;  a  man  of 
learning  as  well  as  genius,  but  not  distinguished  for  deep 
research  and  analytical  investigation  ;  a  model  in  matters 


INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER.  453 

of  taste,  gramrnatical  accuracy,  and  rhetorical  beauty,  but 
not  in  logical  deduction,  abstract  reasoning,  and  philosophi- 
cal criticism. 

'  I  should  speak  of  the  fixedness  of  his  attention  to  the 
chosen  objects  of  his  contemplation,  and  the  perfect  com- 
mand which  he  possessed  over  the  current  of  his  associated 
thoughts,  as  the  first  and  most  obvious  quality  of  his  mind. 
His  perceptive  powers  were  quick  and  excursive.  This  has 
already  been  stated  with  reference  to  the  rapid  movement 
and  far-searching  glance  of  his  eye.  But  the  statement 
should  not  be  confined  to  the  sense  of  sight.  The  remark 
might  be  extended  with  truth  to  all  his  organs  and  powers 
of  perception,  for  they  were  all  connected  with  a  keen  and 
delicate  sensibility,  and  directed  by  an  irrepressible  desire 
of  knowledge. 

'  Of  the  principles  of  association,  on  which  memory  and 
imagination,  comparison  and  the  processes  of  reasoning 
l3epend,  as  they  were  developed  in  his  mind  and  exercised 
in  his  literary  career,  by  which  he  acquired  knowledge  so 
easily  and  rapidly,  and  by  which  his  acquisitions  were  held 
so  firmly,  and  held  in  such  distinct  classification  as  to  be 
always  ready  for  appropriate  use,  —  of  these  principles,  as 
they  existed  in  his  mind,  I  should  say  they  were  those  which 
belong  to  the  poet  rather  than  the  philosopher.  His  mind 
moved,  indeed,  habitually  under  the  control  of  the  will, 
and,  with  a  self-command  rarely  possessed,  he  was  able  to 
exclude  from  it  every  unwelcome  thought  and  intruding 
idea,  and  his  associations  were  such  as  fitted  him  to  excel 

in  literature His  imagination  was  at  once  excursive 

and  brilliant,  chaste,  correct,  and  rich  in  its  combinations, 
furnishing  copious  materials  for  rhetorical  embellishment. 
Indeed,  it  may  be  affirmed,  though  he  did  not  write  poetry, 
he  was  "  born  a  poet,"  and  possessed  all  the  elements  of 
poetic  genius.  Had  he  been  willing,  in  his  literary  career, 
to  stop  at  the  foot  of  Parnassus  and  drink  largely  of  the 
waters  of  the  Castalian  fount,  and  sport  long  with  the  Muses 


454  INTELLECTUAL  CHARACTER. 

that  play  on  its  banks,  he  might  have  been  inspired  with  the 
spirit  of  poetry,  and  have  become  in  his  day  the  Poet  of 
America. 

'  In  conclusion,  I  subjoin  the  following  strong  but  sincere 
remark.  Among  all  my  literary  friends  in  college,  and 
during  a  long  life  of  familiarity  with  men  distinguished  in 
the  several  departments  of  learning  and  the  learned  pro- 
fessions in  various  parts  of  our  country,  I  have  never  found 
one  who  seemed  to  me  to  possess  more  of  that  indescribable 
character  of  mind,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  a  more  complete 
combination  of  those  intellectual  powers  and  susceptibilities 
which  we  usually  denominate  genius,  than  Joseph  Stevens 
BucKMiNSTER.  I  have  known  men  of  more  universal  scholar- 
ship and  men  of  more  dazzling  wit ;  indeed,  I  was  about  to 
make  an  exception  in  favor  of  Fisher  Ames,  who,  in  some 
respects,  especially  in  the  sudden  bursts  of  eloquence,  and 
the  brilliant  train  of  thought,  and  rich  display  of  metaphor, 
which  marked  his  public  speeches  and  even  his  private  con- 
versation, certainly  excelled  all  men  of  my  acquaintance. 
But  notwithstanding  this  modification,  I  can  make  no  essen- 
tial abatement  from  the  general  statement  expressive  of  my 
admiration  of  Buckminster's  genius.  He,  indeed,  furnished 
my  standard  of  genius ;  for  his  was  a  genius  pure  and 
elevated,  steady  and  uniform  in  its  movements,  exempt 
from  the  depressions  of  morbid  sensibility  and  the  erratic 
flights  of  spasmodic  action.' 

Those  pursuits  which  were  entirely  vohintary,  dis- 
connected with  the  wide  field  of  duty,  the  little  gar- 
den of  delight  reserved  for  his  leisure  hours,  — if  he 
may  be  said  to  have  had  any  leisure  hours,  —  were  the 
study  of  the  ancient  classics,  particularly  the  Greek 
and  Latin  poets.  In  this  connection  I  cannot  refuse 
myself  the  pleasure  of  introducing,  although  it  is 
somewhat  out  of  place,  the  description  of  his  transla- 


CHARACTER    OF    HIS    SERMONS.  455 

tion  of  a  passage  of  Homer  when  he  was  only  thirteen 
years  old. 

'  I  remember,  in  particular,'  says  the  friend  just  referred 
to,  '  his  admirable  reading  and  translation  of  a  long  passage 
in  the  Iliad  of  Homer.  He  read  the  Greek  as  if  it  had 
been  his  vernacular  language,  with  ease,  pliancy,  and 
expressiveness,  and  his  translation  was  at  once  free  and 
accurate,  neat  and  comprehensive,  pei'spicuous  and  elegant. 
Indeed,  the  very  soul  of  the  poet  seemed  to  be  infused  into 
the  beautiful  and  expressive  language  of  the  translator.  I 
had  never  heard  Homer  so  read  and  so  translated,  and  the 
admiration  felt  by  me  was  evidently  felt  by  all  present.' 

Here,  perhaps,  some  few  remarks  may  be  appro- 
priate upon  the  sermons,  which  now  remain  as  the 
only  evidence  of  the  character  and  genuis  which,  by 
the  consent  of  all  who  knew  him,  have  been  ascribed 
to  my  brother.  His  active  ministry,  exchiding  the 
time  he  passed  in  Europe,  amounted  to  six  years. 
In  that  time,  he  wrote  about  two  hundred  and  forty 
sermons.  It  may,  in  truth,  be  said  that  it  is  not  what 
one  accomplishes  in  life,  but  what  one  is,  which  con- 
stitutes greatness;  something  there  is  in  the  character 
which  outruns  all  the  performance.  Campbell  lived 
to  old  age,  and  wrote  a  great  number  of  books ;  but 
his  Hope,  his  Gertrude  of  Wyoming,  and  his  death- 
less songs  alone,  will  tell  to  future  ages  that  Campbell 
lived.  Goethe  said  to  Eckermann,  '  Half  a  million 
of  my  own  money,  the  fortune  I  inherited,  my  salary, 
and  the  large  income  derived  from  my  writings  for 
fifty  years,  have  been  expended  to  make  me  what  I 
now  am.'  Of  the  sermons  in  question,  it  has  been 
well  said  that  none  of  them  seem  to  be  the  result  of 


456  CHARM    OF    HIS    ENUNCIATION. 

any  extraordinary  effort,  like  the  grand  sermons  of 
Robert  Hall,  or  some  of  the  splendid  performances  of 
Dr.  Channing;  'but  they  are  rather  the  usual  and 
easy  production  of  a  mind,  whose  ordinary  move- 
ments were  high  and  beautiful,  and  which  left  its 
own  impress  of  genius  upon  all  its  works.'  They 
are  character  passed  into  thought,  —  'earnest  feeling, 
steeped  in  that  beauty  which  emanates  from  genius 
inspired  by  faith.'  No  one  of  the  sermons,  therefore, 
surpasses  very  much  the  others.  They  are  the  ordi- 
nary expression  of  his  usual  train  of  thought.  Of  the 
sermons  which  remain  unpublished,  there  is  scarcely 
one  which  does  not  contain  passages  of  eminent 
beauty  and  power.  The  efforts  of  such  a  mind  can- 
not be  measured.  The  diurnal  rule  of  such  a  life  is 
benefaction. 

In  speaking  of  his  sermons,  also,  the  peculiar  charm 
and  power  of  his  oratory  should  never  be  omitted. 
'  The  impression  they  made  depended,  in  no  small 
degree,  upon  the  distinctness  of  articulation,  the  pro- 
priety of  prormnciation,  the  melody  of  intonation, 
the  power  of  emphasis  and  expression,  together  with 
the  perfect  symmetry  of  action  and  completeness 
of  enunciation.'  The  remarks  of  a  classmate*  are 
here  quoted  in  proof  of  the  power  and  charm  of  his 
reading.  ^ 

'  At  the  close  of  the  meeting  of  a  "  Composition  Club," 
where  he  had  been  the  reader  of  the  anonymous  pieces 
drawn  from  the  secret  box,  it  was  remarked,  "  When 
Buckminster  reads,  all  the  compositions  are  good."  No 
one,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  could  read  like  him,  and  give  to 

*  Rev.  Dr.  Bates. 


HIS    APPEARANCE    IN    THE    PULPIT. 


457 


every  letter  its  full  power,  to  every  syllable  its  distinct 
weight,  to  every  word  its  just  emphasis  and  appropriate 
modulation,  to  every  phrase  and  sentence  their  precise 
meaning,  their  complete  and  expressive  import.  His  excel- 
lent reading  was,  indeed,  the  foundation  of  his  enchanting 
eloquence,  and  his  eloquent  delivery  gave  the  crowning 
glory  to  his  compositions.  Were  you  now  to  go  about 
among  the  elderly  members  of  the  Brattle  Street  congre- 
gation, and  ask  them  what  they  think  of  Mr.  Buckminster's 
published  sermons,  they  would,  I  think,  tell  you,  that, 
excellent  as  they  consider  these  discourses,  they  are  alto- 
gether inferior  to  many  which  they  heard  him  preach. 
They  might  not  be  aware  of  the  cause  of  this  inferiority  ; 
but  to  the  philosophic  mind,  accustomed  to  analyze,  that 
cause  must  be  obvious  at  once.  It  is  found  in  his  delivery, 
—  his  excellent  reading,  combined  with  the  beauty  of  his 
person  and  his  appropriate  action,  —  in  the  various  qualities 
which,  united,  go  to  form  complete  elegance  and  constitute 
a  perfect  orator.  Such  truly  was  Buckminster.  His  enun- 
ciation and  expression,  his  brilliant  eye,  the  mingled  sweet- 
ness and  strength,  solemnity  and  cheerfulness,  intelligence 
and  pathos,  which  continually  pervaded  and  animated  his 
whole  countenance  while  speaking,  gave  to  his  discourses 
more  than  half  their  charm,  and  enabled  him  to  exert  an 
absolute  control  over  the  feelings  of  his  audience. 

'  If  it  were  proper  to  apply  the  term  beauty  in  describing 
the  personal  appearance  of  any  man,  I  should  say,  that  no 
man  ever  possessed  in  a  higher  degree  than  he  the  elements 
of  this  quality.  And  the  influence  which  this  had  on  his 
popularity  as  a  public  speaker,  and  even  as  a  preacher, 
was,  as  I  have  intimated,  by  no  means  unimportant.  It 
ought  not  therefore  to  be  omitted,  in  an  attempt  to  delineate 
his  character  as  an  orator.  As  he  stood  in  the  pulpit  and 
delivered  his  message,  you  could  discover  no  defect  in 
form  or  manner,  in  attitude  or  movement,  in  utterance  or 
expression  ;  —  all  was  symmetry,  propriety,  elegance.  He 
39 


458  HIS    APPEARANCE    IN    THE    PULPIT. 

was  indeed  a  model  as  a  pulpit  orator,  and  "his  personal 
charm  and  eloquence  of  manner  forcibly  illustrated  to  my 
mind,  by  positive  example,  the  wisdom  of  that  negative 
injunction  of  the  Levitical  law,  "  No  man  that  hath  a 
blemish  of  the  seed  of  Aaron  the  priest,  shall  come  nigh 
to  offer  the  offerings  of  the  Lord."  ' 

Few  are  living  who  can  remember  his  appearance 
in  the  pulpit.  Its  chief  characteristic  was  that  of 
deeply  felt,  calm,  but  fervent  devotion.  His  jirayers, 
of  which  a  large  number  remain  among  his  papers,  in 
the  earliest  part  of  his  ministry,  were  written  and 
committed  to  memory.  They  are  marked  by  sim- 
plicity and  appropriate  Scripture  language.  They 
express  the  wants,  the  longings,  the  contrition,  the 
aspiration,  and  the  gratitude  of  deeply  experienced 
human  hearts.  His  object  in  writing  his  prayers 
seems  to  have  been  to  make  them  the  true  devotion 
of  the  soul,  the  expression  of  the  intellect  as  well  as 
the  heart.  They  were  uttered  with  a  calm,  unim- 
passioned  fervor,  which  contrasted,  with  the  animated 
and  exhilarating  tone  of  the  sermon.  The  music  of 
the  hymn,  as  it  came  from  his  'melodious  voice,'  was 
felt  in  newer  and  deeper  meanings  imparted  to  every 
sentiment,  opening  to  the  hearer  a  new  sense  in  the 
ear  and  in  the  soul. 

Of  the  sermons  which  have  been  published,  it  is 
but  just  to  regard  them  as  the  compositions  of  early 
life,  called  forth  by  the  ordinary  occasions  of  every 
passing  week.  Had  he  lived,  probably  not  one  of  the 
sermons,  as  now  printed,  would  have  been  given  to 
the  press.  He  steadily  resisted  all  applications  to 
print  his  sermons  during  his  life,  only  two  having 
been  yielded  to  the  requests  of  the  hearers,  —  those 


LAST    LETTER    TO    HIS    FATHER.  459 

on  the  deaths  of  Governor  Sullivan  and  Rev.  William 
Emerson.  It  was  his  habit  to  write  more  than  once 
on  the  same  subject.  Sermons  written  in  1SU4  were 
rewritten  in  1808;  and  as  his  mind  expanded,  and 
the  same  theme  was  clothed  with  thoughts  of  greater 
depth  and  power,  he  would  have  subjected  them  to  a 
severe  revisal,  or  he  would  have  enriched  them  with 
passages  of  greater  energy  and  beauty,  as  his  own 
mind  became  enriched  with  inward  illumination  or 
with  the  acquisitions  of  time. 

It  has  been  already  mentioned,  that  the  cares  of 
his  ministry  increased  in  great  disproportion  to  the 
increase  of  his  strength.  After  his  appointment  to 
the  lectureship  at  Cambridge,  he  redoubled  his  exer- 
tions, and  began,  as  has  been  mentioned,  to  study 
another  language.  This,  with  the  kindred  subjects 
to  which  it  led,  interested  him  so  deeply  as  to  deprive 
him  of  sleep;  but  to  his  friends  he  had  never  ap- 
peared more  brilliant,  more  equal  to  every  duty,  more 
animated  and  efficient,  than  immediately  before  his 
last  illness.  The  seizure  was  as  imexpected  as  it  was 
sudden.  The  last  letter  he  ever  wrote  to  his  father 
follows.  It  seems  to  have  been  elicitecT  by  anxiety 
respecting  the  speculations  of  one  of  his  family,  and 
it  mentions  cursorily  the  unusual  lassitude  which  he 
felt  at  the  approach  of  warm  weather. 

'  April  23d,  1812. 

'My  dear  Father,  —  I  have  just  seen  a  letter  from , 

the  reading  of  which  has  affected  me  with  the  most  gloomy 
thoughts.  She  is  now  experiencing  something  of  what  I 
have  myself  felt  in  former  years, —  the  unhappiness  of 
seeing  her  parent  cast  down  and  troubled  with  the  thought 


460  LAST  LETTER  TO  HIS  FATHER. 

that  his  children  are  given  up  "to  believe  a  lie  ;"  while 
Christianity  is  continually  presented  to  her,  either  in  a  form 
which  she  does  not  understand,  or  which,  as  far  as  she 
does  understand  it,  seems  unworthy  of  the  reception  of  a 
rational  creature,  or  of  the  authority  of  a  holy  and  bene- 
ficent Father.  From  some  expressions  in  her  letter,  I 
began  to  be  afraid  that  her  faith  in  the  divine  owgin  of  the 
Gospel  was  shaken,  and  that,  having  it  continually  pre- 
sented to  her  mind  in  the  revolting  forms  of  Calvinism,  she 
was  willing  to  wish,  that,  if  such  representations  of  Chris- 
tianity were  a  just  picture  of  what  should  be  a  most 
beneficent  religion,  she  would  be  glad  to  find  it  not  true. 
Such  a  result,  though  I  know  it  is  by  no  means  uncommon, 
I  should  most  earnestly  deprecate  in  any  one  of  my  rela- 
tions. I  hope  she  will  have  more  strength  of  mind  than  to 
fall  into  such  a  state  of  feeling,  and  that  God  will  enable 
her  to  know  the  truth  and  value  of  the  revelation  of  his 
Son  Jesus  Christ,  though  she  may  find  it  difficult  to  con- 
ceive of  doctrines  which  others  represent  as  its  essential 
principles. 

'  I  know,  my  dear  Sir,  that  you  would  see  with  anguish 
her  mind  so  perplexed  by  the  views  of  Calvinistic  Chris- 
tianity, as  to  become  indifferent  to  the  news  of  eternal  life 
by  Jesus  Christ,  which,  I  hope,  will  never  cease  to  be  the 
object  of  her  dearest  love  and  gratitude,  and  that  she  will 
go  to  the  Fa«her  by  him  who  has  promised  to  guide  us  into 
all  necessary  truth. 

'  It  is  my  misfortune  to  be  encompassed  with  a  cloud  of 
business,  more,  I  fear,  than  I  can  properly  attend  to,  with 
justice  to  myself  or  my  parishioners.  But  while  my  health 
lasts,  I  dare  not  refuse  any  exertion  by  which  we  may  hope 
to  diffuse  the  blessing  of  the  truth,  or  to  benefit  our  fellow- 
men.  We  are  now  forming  a  society  for  the  improvement 
of  seamen.  Is  it  not  worthy  attention  in  every  respect  ? 
I  am  persuaded  that  no  class  of  persons  are  more  suscep- 
tible of  deep  and  permanent  religious  impressions  than 
those  who  follow  the  sea. 


ELECTION    WEEK    IN    BOSTON.  '  461 

'  I  do  not  write  often,  because  my  sister  supplies  all  my 
deficiencies  in  that  respect.  If  I  felt  that  my  silence  was 
the  consequence  of  any  diminution  of  interest  or  affection 
for  you  or  yours,  I  should  be  very  unhappy.  My  health 
has  been  very  good  through  the  winter,  but  I  have  found 
myself  uncommonly  sensible  to  the  relaxing  approach  of 
warm  w-eather.  I  do  not  contemplate  any  journey  before 
the  middle  of  June,  when  I  hope  to  see  you  in  your  own 
home.     Your  dear  son, 

'J.  S.  B.' 

Tims  closed  the  correspondence  between  father 
and  son.  That  frail  health,  which  he  thought  it  his 
duty  not  to  spare,  was  already  deeply  undermined, 
and  the  words  with  which  he  closed  his  letter  had  a 
prophetic  meaning.  He  did  meet  his  father  before  the 
middle  of  June,  in  that  father's  own  home,  where,  we 
may  surely  believe,  they  were  never  separated  again. 

Soon  after  the  date  of  that  letter,  came  on  the 
week,  —  the  so-called  election  week  in  Boston,  —  so 
crowded  with  business,  with  societies,  with  the  duties 
of  the  present,  and  the  hopes  of  the  future  ;  when  the 
city  throngs  with  strangers,  and  the  moments  that 
are  not  given  to  exciting  occupations  and  wearying 
business  are  absorbed  by  the  duties  of  hospitality, 
the  claims  of  old  friendships,  and  the  pleasures  of 
society.  My  brother  entered  with  keen  enjoyment 
into  all  the  various  interests  of  the  week.  He  was  an 
efficient  member,  or  an  acting  officer,  of  nearly  all 
the  societies  of  the  time,  —  less  numerous,  indeed, 
than  at  present,  but  still  enough  to  absorb  all  his 
leisure, — and  he  was  engaged  to  preach  the  sermon 
before  the  Society  for  the  Promotion  of  Christian 
Knowledge,  Piety,  and  Charity,  on  May  26th.  The 
39* 


462  LAST    LABORS. 

election  sermon  was  on  Wednesday,  and  the  Conven- 
tion, in  which  he  took  the  warmest  interest,  was  on 
the  Thursday  following.  His  ever-watchfnl  sister 
observed,  that,  while  writing  the  sermon  for  the 
above-mentioned  society,  he  was  oppressed  by  an  un- 
usual languor,  and  the  sermon,  although  selected  for 
publication,  bears  evidence  of  it.  An  extract  from  a 
letter  of  this  date  shows  how  the  labors  of  the  week 
had  crowded  upon  him. 

'  Joseph  sat  up  nearly  all  night,  writing  his  sermon  to 
preach  before  the  society.  He  has  been  so  engaged  with 
various  societies,  and  with  company  staying  in  the  house, 
that  he  has  had  no  time.  After  all,  the  gentlemen  called 
for  him  when  he  was  writing  the  last  page.  He  went  off 
without  his  gown.  In  his  hurry,  he  forgot  to  put  it  on.  I 
did  not  perceive  it  for  some  time,  and  then  sent  it  after  him, 
which  made  me  too  late,'  etc. 

This  forgetting  the  gown  was  no  proof  that  his 
memory  was  failing ;  but,  it  not  being  the  Sabbath, 
he  did  not  think  of  the  usual  costume  of  the  pulpit. 

Thus  he  went  on,  —  no  pause,  no  rest,  —  in  the 
exercise  of  a  benevolence  never  surpassed,  an  ardor 
for  the  good  of  others  rarely  equalled.  There  was 
no  voice  to  warn,  —  there  was  no  hand  to  hold  him 
back.  Others  were  engaged  with  him ;  but  he,  with 
his  thrilling  voice,  his  ardent  eye,  and  his  intrepid 
and  buoyant  spirit,  urged  them  on.  Some  few  looked 
on  with  trembling  interest,  knowing  the  fatal  conse- 
quences of  over-exerting  the  sensitive  brain ;  but  he 
had  survived  many  such  periods  of  severe  labor,  and 
why  might  he  not  pass  uninjured   through  this  one  ? 

The  ruin  came  all  at  once,  with  instantaneous  shock. 
His  early  prayer  was  answered.     There  was  no  inter- 


DEATH    OF    J.    S.    BITCKMINSTER.  463 

val  between  his  active  career  and  his  shattered  frame. 
At  once,  as  though  stricken  on  sunken  rocks,  in  the 
calm,  bkie  sea,  and  amidst  the  cloudless  heaven,  his 
noble  intellect  became  a  wreck.  The  silver  cord 
endured  no  loosening  from  its  hold,  —  it  snapped 
asunder,  and  was  gone  ! 

It  should  certainly  be  cause  of  deep  gratitude  that 
he  was  cut  down  at  once,  without  the  slow  decay, 
without  the  loss  of  one  of  those  brilliant  and  fasci- 
nating qualities  that  so  won  the  love  of  his  con- 
temporaries. That  he  did  not  live  to  become  the 
sepulchre  of  his  dead  intellect,  demands  the  devout 
gratitude  of  all  who  knew  him. 

From  the  records  of  an  interleaved  register,  I  am 
able  to  give  some  account  of  the  employment  of  the 
few  days  before  the  attack  of  his  last,  fatal  illness. 
On  the  26th  of  May,  he  preached  the  sermon  already 
mentioned,  and  attended  a  funeral  in  the  afternoon. 
On  the  27th,  election  day,  the  funerals  of  two  chil- 
dren are  recorded.  On  the  evening  of  the  28th,  after 
attending  the  convention  of  ministers,  he  performed 
the  ceremony  of  marriage  for  two  couples,  apparently 
at  his  own  house.  On  Sunday,  he  repeated,  in  his 
own  pulpit,  with  alterations,  the  sermon  prepared  for 
the  society  already  mentioned,  dividing  it  into  two 
sermons,  for  morning  and  afternoon.  In  the  even- 
ing, he  received  the  usual  visiters  in  his  study.  On 
Monday  afternoon,  he  met  with  the  association  of 
ministers;  and  we  may  easily  suppose  it  was  a  day 
of  more  than  his  usual  exhaustion  and  lassitude,  after 
the  labors  of  the  week  and  of  the  Sabbath.  On 
Tuesday  evening,  Jime  2d,  he  met  the  committee  of 
the  parish  on  parish  business,  and  afterwards  attended, 
and  took  part,  as  was  always  a  delight  to  him,  with 


464  DEATH    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMOSTER. 

his  musical  society.  On  Wednesday,  he  had  so  vio- 
lent an  access  of  his  disorder  as  completely  to  pros- 
trate his  physical  powers,  and  to  deprive  him  of  his 
reason,  which  returned  only  at  momentary  intervals 
during  the  seven  days  that  the  struggle  between  life 
and  death  continued.  On  Tuesday,  Jime  9th,  he 
expired,  with  a  serene  and  blissful  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, that  seemed  already  to  foreshadow  the  higher 
world  for  which  the  departing  spirit  was  winged. 

During  the  whole  of  his  short  illness,  his  bed  was 
surrounded,  and  the  apartments  of  the  house  thronged, 
with  anxious  friends,  lingering,  with  fond  regret,  over 
the  insensible  form  from  which  genius,  but  not  beauty, 
had  departed;  listening,  with  breathless  attention,  to 
catch  the  inarticulate  sounds,  in  which  the  more  ex- 
perienced ear  of  the  physician  detected  the  words  of 
prayer.  Friends  and  strangers,  the  merchants,  as  they 
met  on  'change,  and  all,  as  they  paused  from  their 
daily  toil,  whispered  to  each  other  words  of  hope  or 
fear ;  and  a  public  and  fearful  calamity  seemed  to 
hang  over  the  town. 

It  is  delightful  to  recollect  that  the  last  rational 
exercise  of  his  mind,  the  last  conscious  act  of  his  life, 
was  joining  in  the  devotional  music  of  the  choir  of 
his  church.  It  was  no  doubt  the  very  moment  in 
which  he  would  wish  to  die,  as  he  has  said,  in  one 
of  his  earliest  letters,  '  in  the  swelling  notes  of  celes- 
tial praise,  he  could  wish  to  dissolve  into  sound.' 
In  the  music  in  which  he  delighted,  it  seemed, 
indeed,  as  though  departed  spirits  came  to  announce 
and  to  bear  testimony  to  a  future  union.  The  close 
of  his  life,  so  in  unison  with  its  whole  aim,  has 
added  a  sweetness  to  his  memory  that  embalms  it  for 
ever. 


CHAPTER     XXI. 

DOMESTIC  EVENTS  RELATING  TO  DR.  BUCKMINSTER. JOUR- 
NEY TO  CONNECTICUT. CHEERFULNESS  AND  UNINTER- 
RUPTED   HEALTH     FOR    FOUR    YEARS.  —  HIS    LAST    ILLNESS, 

AND      DEATH.  —  INTERMENT.  MONUMENT.    FUNERAL 

SERVICES    AT    PORTSMOUTH,    AND    BOSTON.  —  REINTERMENT 
AND    MONUMENT    OF    J.    S.    BUCKMINSTER. 

As  we  draw  towards  the  close  of  the  life 
of  my  father.  I  would  fain  record  that  the 
cheerfulness  and  apparent  health  which  he  enjoyed  in 
1808,  and  the  three  succeeding  years,  had  suffered  no 
interruption.  He  had  been,  through  life,  a  man  of 
much  domestic  grief.  The  sensibility  of  his  heart 
had  been  often  wrung  by  the  loss  of  children  at  the 
age  when  they  are  the  most  lovely  and  attractive,  — 
when  the  opening  faculties  awaken  the  most  tender 
interest  in  the  parent,  and  the  sorrow  occasioned  by 
their  loss  is  as  acute,  though  not  perhaps  as  enduring, 
as  when  they  die  at  a  later  age.  At  the  loss  of  his 
second  wife,  in  J  805,  whom  he  loved  with  a  passion 
fond  almost  to  idolatry,  those  who  witnessed  the 
agony  of  his  grief  trembled,  lest  his  reason  or  his  life 
should  become  the  sacrifice  to  an  attachment  to 
which  the  energy  of  his  soul  and  the  sensibility  of 
his  heart  were  wholly  given. 

In  1808,  and  in  the  three  succeeding  years,  he  had 


466  VISIT    TO    NEW    HAVEN. 

recovered  from  the  desolating  effect  of  this  and  other 
losses.  His  daughter  remarks,  in  a  letter  found  in 
the  preceding  pages,  that  she  had  never  known  him 
in  better  health  and  spirits.  His  daughters  were 
now  old  enough  to  be  to  their  father,  not  only  do- 
mestic assistants,  but  companions  and  friends ;  and 
the  more  youthful  society  that  was  drawn  to  the  par- 
sonage, by  finding  companions  of  their  own  age 
there,  was  a  great  accession  of  pleasure  and  of  cheer- 
ful conversation  to  Dr.  Buckminster  himself.  My 
brother,  also,  when  he  came  from  Boston  to  visit  his 
family,  was  usually  accompanied  by  one  of  his  young 
friends,  which  added  much  to  the  cheerfulness  of  the 
party  assembled  in  what  was  called,  pa?'  eminence, 
'  the  little  parlor.' 

In  the  summer  of  1808,  he  allowed  himself  the 
recreation  of  a  journey  to  the  beloved  scenes  of  his 
youth.  As  he  travelled  with  his  own  horse  and 
chaise,  and  a  daughter  for  a  companion,  it  was  a 
journey  of  formidable  length.  He  visited  New  Haven, 
at  the  season  of  Commencement,  and  enjoyed,  for  the 
last  time,  the  renewal  of  old  associations,  and  the 
delightful  reminiscences  of  college  days.  It  was 
true  that  younger  classes  had  risen  up  '  which  knew 
not  Joseph,'  yet  it  was  a  singular  and  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance, that  a  large  number  of  the  class  of  1770 
had,  like  him,  gone  up  to  visit  their  Alma  Mater, 
and  others  of  the  classes  to  whom  he  had  been  tutor, 
so  that  the  renewal  of  old  associations  was  as  com- 
plete and  delightful  as  possible. 

In  1809,  he  was  twice  invited  to  preach  occasional 
sermons,  —  at  the  ordination  of  Rev.  Mr.  Thurston, 
at  Manchester,  N.  H.,  and  before  the  Female  Charita- 


FAMILY    OF    DE.    BUCKMINSTER.  4G7 

ble  Society  of  Newbury  port.  Both  of  the  sermons 
were  requested  for  the  press,  and  they  are  among  the 
most  vigorous  and  interesting  of  his  productions. 

It  was  a  peculiar  cause  of  anxiety  to  my  father 
that  the  sohtary  situation  of  his  son,  (obliged  to 
make  the  parsonage-house  his  residence,)  and  his 
singular  liability  to  illness,  compelled  the  necessity  of 
dividing  his  family,  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  society 
of  his  eldest  daughter.  The  second  was,  unfortu- 
nately, at  that  time,  too  much  of  an  invalid  to  be 
much  from  under  the  parental  roof,  and  the  others 
were  all  too  young  to  leave  home,  except  under  the 
care  of  the  elder  sisters.  But,  as  their  brother's  house 
was  a  pleasant  residence,  and  Boston  presented  so 
nnich  rarer  advantages  of  education  for  the  younger 
children,  one  or  two  were  constantly  with  their 
brother,  and  away  from  home.  To  a  man  so  tender 
in  his  domestic  affections,  these  blanks  in  the  family 
circle  were  peculiarly  painful. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  speak,  my  father's  ap- 
pearance was  that  of  a  person  in  the  full  vigor  of 
life.  In  1808,  he  was  fifty-seven  years  old.  His 
remarkably  striking  form  was  unbent  and  unworn. 
The  raven  black  of  his  hair  was  just  beginning  to  be 
streaked  with  gray,  and  the  temples  were  fringed 
with  silver.  He  was  often,  at  this  period  of  his  life, 
while  he  was  a  widower,  solicited  to  join  social  parties, 
where  his  daughters  were  invited,  and  his  presence, 
while  it  checked  all  undue  mirth,  was  thought  to  add 
much  to  the  cheerfulness  of  the  party.  But  the 
young  were  not  those  with  whom  he  could  the  most 
readily  find  sympathy,  and,  while  his  house  was  filled 
with  them,  he  often,  no  doubt,  felt  doubly  alone. 


468  AN    INTERVAL    OF    HAPPINESS. 

His  salary  had  never  been  more  than  a  very  mod- 
erate support  for  his  large  family  ;  money,  however, 
for  any  purposes  but  those  of  beneficence,  and  for  the 
education  of  his  children,  had  little  value  in  his  eyes. 
The  absence  of  all  worldliness  is  perhaps  a  defect, 
for  children  should  be  taught  the  value  of  money 
sufficiently  to  desire  to  avoid  the  absolute  want  of  it. 
After  his  marriage,  in  the  summer  of  1810,  he  left 
the  parsonage-house  and  removed  to  a  more  commo- 
dious dwelling,  the  property  of  his  wife.  His  mar- 
riage placed  him  beyond  all  anxiety  with  regard  to 
pecuniary  concerns.  It  is  due  to  his  delicate  sense 
of  justice  to  state,  that  the  property  which  came  into 
his  possession  by  his  last  marriage  was  returned  im- 
mediately by  bequest.  His  will,  executed  the  day 
after  the  solemnization  of  his  marriage,  is  in  these 
words  :  — 

'  Secondly.  To  my  beloved  wife  Abigail,  I  return,  by 
bequest,  all  that  estate,  real  and  personal,  or  mixed,  of 
which  she  was  possessed  (when  she  became  my  wife)  by 
the  will  of  her  late  husband.  Colonel  Eliphalet  Ladd;  to  be 
not  only  for  her  use  during  her  life,  but  to  be  at  her  dis- 
posal, and  to  her  heirs  and  assigns  for  ever,  as  completely 
as  if  no  connection  had  taken  place  between  us ;  and  as  to 
the  little  property  which  I  possess,  separate  from  that  which 
fell  into  my  hands  through  her  courtesy  and  confidence,  it  is 
my  will,  that  my  said  beloved  wife  should  have  the  income 
of  it  during  her  continuing  my  widow^,  if  she  chooses  to 
retain  it.' 

He  had  now  enjoyed  uninterrupted  health  and 
spirits  for  more  than  four  years.  He  seemed  to  have 
taken  a  new  lease  of  life,  and  his  friends  saw  no  rea- 
son why  he  might  not  attain  to  the  age  of  the  most 


RECURRENCE  OF  DEPRESSION.  469 

long-lived  of  his  ancestors;  but,  as  was  mentioned 
in  the  last  chapter,  at  the  close  of  the  year  1811, 
those  of  his  family  who  were  most  intimate  with  the 
peculiarities  of  his  constitution,  saw,  with  anguish, 
that  a  nameless  depression,  an  apparently  causeless 
anxiety,  was  beginning  to  gather  in  dark  clouds  over 
his  mind.  Physical  disease,  which  baffled  the  sa- 
gacity of  science,  no  doubt  affected  him ;  but  it 
assumed  the  outward  form  of  mental  depression,  ner- 
vous distress,  and  agitation.  In  May,  1812,  he  be- 
came much  more  ill,  and  change  of  scene  amid  the 
healthful  influences  of  nature  was  proposed,  and  a 
journey  to  the  western  part  of  New  York  was  re- 
solved upon,  which  was  to  begin  early  in  June. 

At  this  time  his  ilhiess  did  not  take  the  usual  form 
of  morbid  and  exaggerated  conscientiousness  ;  it  was 
a  general  distrust  of  himself,  his  power  of  sustaining 
his  ministry,  and  a  fear  lest  he  should  be  the  cause 
of  unhappiness  to  others.  He  continued  to  perform 
the  public  services  of  his  church  on  the  Sabbath,  and 
to  receive  his  friends,  and  those  who  were  unac- 
quainted with  his  malady  perceived  no  cause  for 
uneasiness. 

The  last  Sabbath  in  May,  he  felt  a  strong  persua- 
sion that  he  should  never  again  address  his  people. 
As  his  journey  was  to  be  commenced  on  Tuesday, 
and  the  Sabbath  was  the  last  day  of  the  month,  the 
communion  was  celebrated  on  that  day,  that  he  might 
enjoy  once  more  with  his  beloved  church  that  last 
act  of  affection  and  devotion  to  his  Divine  Master. 
His  services  were  unusually  fervent  and  pathetic,  and 
he  seemed  to  feel  a  prophetic  foreboding  that  it  was 
the  last  time  his  voice  would  ever  be  heard  from  that 
40 


470  LAST    JOURNEY. 

table  of  his  Lord.  He  did  not  go  out  in  the  after- 
noon, and  the  succeeding  night  was  one  of  distress 
and  agitation.  His  daughter  and  his  friend,  Rev. 
Mr.  Parker,  watched  with  him  through  the  night.  It 
was  spent  by  him  in  fervent  prayers,  interrupted  at 
intervals  by  bursts  of  uncontrollable  emotion.  It  was 
the  night  preceding  the  first  of  June,  and  the  unusual 
warmth  of  the  season  allowed  all  the  windows  to  be 
open.  The  garden  beneath  the  windows,  hushed  in 
the  sweet  repose  of  moonlight,  was  all  white  with 
the  full  blossom  of  fruit  trees,  whose  fragrance  as- 
cended upon  the  night-breeze  to  the  watchers  by  that 
beloved  but  afflicted  spirit.  How  striking  was  the 
contrast  between  the  joyful  repose  of  nature  and  the 
jarring  discords  of  the  human  soul ;  but  never,  during 
any  of  the  wild  conflicts  of  emotion,  did  he  lose  for 
a  moment  the  gentle  sweetness  of  his  manners,  or  a 
tender  devotion  to  the  comfort  of  others. 

Arrangements  had  been  made  for  his  departure  on 
a  journey  the  next  morning  as  far  as  the  Saratoga 
Springs;  and,  upon  his  return,  he  would  visit  his  son 
and  daughter  in  Boston.  He  was  to  be  accompanied 
by  his  wife  and  a  gentleman  of  middle  age,  who  was 
a  member  of  his  church,  also  by  a  young  man,  at  that 
time  a  student  of  divinity.  His  young  friend,  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Parker,  had  so  endeared  himself  to  Dr. 
Bnckminster  by  the  warmth  of  his  sympathy,  that 
the  sufferer  could  not  bear  to  part  with  him ;  and  the 
latter  was  persuaded  to  accompany  him  a  part  of  the 
way  on  his  journey.  The  prayer  that  he  offered  in 
his  family  the  morning  of  his  departure  was  so  touch- 
ing in  its  pathetic  earnestness,  that  it  melted  his  young 
children  to  tears.     Observing  them  weeping,  he  said, 


LAST    JOURNEY    AND    ILLNESS.  471 

with  the  most  cheerful  smile,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
carriage,  'Be  not  anxious,  —  all  will  be  well!'  It 
was  an  inexpressible  consolation  to  them,  thus  or- 
phaned in  their  youth,  to  remember  that  the  last 
kind  words  that  fell  from  his  lips  were  those  of  en- 
couragement and  peace. 

The  following  notices  of  the  remaining  days  of 
my  father's  life  are  derived  from  the  journal  sent 
to  his  family  by  the  young  student  who  accom- 
panied him  on  his  journey.  The  party  left  Ports- 
mouth on  the  first  or  second  day  of  June.  The 
season  was  more  enchanting  than  can  be  imagined ; 
the  air  was  loaded  with  the  fragrance  of  blossoming 
trees  ;  the  tender  grass  was  of  an  emerald  green  ;  the 
temperature  balmy  as  the  air  of  Paradise  ;  and  a  spirit 
of  beauty  seemed  to  move  over  the  earth  to  cure  all 
sadness  but  despair. 

'  June  2d.  After  proceeding  a  short  distance,  the  con- 
versation turned  upon  the  goodness  of  God,  as  displayed 
in  the  beauty  of  nature.  Mr.  Parker  observed,  that 
"  all  nature  appeared  to  smile  in  praise  of  the  Creator." 
"  Yes,"  replied  Dr.  Buckminster,  and  tears  filled  his  eyes, 
"  we  are  travelling  amidst  the  loveliest  works  of  God." 
Mr.  Parker  said  it  was  a  wise  and  benevolent  dispensation 
of  Heaven,  that  the  acceptableness  of  our  actions  did  not 
depend  on  a  high  excitation  of  the  afFuctions  and  feelings  ; 
but  a  course  of  devout  action  might  be  continued  when  the 
ardor  of  feeling  that  prompted  it  had  subsided  ;  for  such 
was  the  limitation  of  our  nature,  that  we  could  neither  long 
endure  keen  elevation  nor  always  possess  uniform  cheerful 
assurance  ;  and  if  the  ardor  of  feeling  were  requisite  to  the 
right  performance  of  actions,  we  should  not  be  able,  when 
it  was  in  exercise,  to  do  properly  the  business  of  life.     But, 


472  LAST  JOURNEY  AND  ILLNESS. 

as  we  are  constituted,  having  begun  a  series  of  good  actions 
from  right  principle,  we  may  continue  them  from  habit, 
after  the  vividness  of  emotion  has  subsided.  Dr.  Buck- 
minster  smiled  ;  "  I  think,"  he  said,  "  that  you  have  given 
us  a  true  and  philosophical  statement  of  the  subject." 

'  In  the  afternoon,  the  conversation  turned  upon  the  Hop- 
kinsian  system.  The  Dr.  asked  me  if  I  had  read  a  certain 
treatise  upon  the  points  of  difference  between  Hopkins  and 
Calvin,  adding,  that  he  had  lately  been  reading  it.  Upon 
my  observing  that  the  difference  between  Hopkinsians  and 
rigid  Calvinists  appeared  to  be  merely  nominal,  he  replied, 
—  "There  is  a  difference.  The  former  hold,  that,  if  it 
were  for  the  glory  of  God,  a  soul  must  be  willing  to  be 
eternally  miserable ;  which  implies,  that  the  believer  must 
be  willing  to  be  in  a  state  that  would  for  ever  deprive  him 
of  the  presence  of  God,  and  where  his  name  was  blas- 
phemed. Hopkinsians  also  ascribe  the  origin  of  evil  to 
God,  —  an  assertion  that  Calvinists  reject." 

'  The  next  day,  speaking  of  the  origin  of  writing,  I 
observed  that  the  law  of  the  ten  commandments  was  said 
to  be  written  by  the  finger  of  God.  The  Dr.  answered, 
that  "  this,  like  many  other  passages  of  the  Scriptures, 
must  be  taken  figuratively ;  they  were  probably  written  by 
Moses." 

'  His  friend,  Mr.  Parker,  quitted  the  party  at  Newbury- 
port  to  return  to  Portsmouth.  In  attempting  to  give  him  a 
message  for  his  children,  Dr.  Buckminster's  emotion  was  so 
great  that  he  desisted  from  the  attempt.  After  Mr.  Parker 
left  him,  his  dejection  increased,  and  his  mind  seemed 
clouded  with  a  settled  gloom.  Passing  through  Chelmsford, 
he  saw  some  children  at  play  by  the  school-house,  and 
burst  into  involuntary  tears.  Upon  inquiring  the  cause  of 
this  sudden  expression  of  sensibility,  he  said,  "they  brought 
to  his  mind  his  own  children,  the  sorrow  they  were  destined 
to  suffer,  and  their  inability,  from  their  youth  and  retired 
education,  to  contend  with  the  difficulties  of  life."     After 


LAST  JOURNEY  AND  ILLNESS.  473 

his  emotion  had  subsided,  he  conversed  upon  the  scenes  of 
his  early  life,  of  his  collegiate  pursuits,  and  the  advantages 
of  the  exact  sciences  in  strengthening  the  mind,  and  induc- 
ing habits  of  correct  reasoning.' 

At  Newbury  port  he  had  met  his  brother  and  sister, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tappan,  returning  from  Boston.  He 
expressed  to  his  sister,  more  fully  than  he  had  to  his 
children,  his  entire  conviction  that  the  journey  would 
be  of  no  avail ;  he  had  undertaken  it  at  the  desire  of 
friends,  and  would  go  on,  but  he  felt  a  firm  persua- 
sion in  his  own  mind  that  he  never  should  return  to 
Portsmouth. 

In  that  distressing  night  previous  to  his  leaving 
home,  the  physician  had  thought  proper  to  take  a 
quantity  of  blood  from  the  arm.  On  the  fourth  day 
of  the  journey,  the  wounded  vein  began  to  inflame, 
and  the  whole  arm,  probably  irritated  by  travelling, 
swelled,  and  became  extremely  painful. 

'  June  5th.  At  Townsend,  the  patient  walked  some 
distance  to  observe  a  lovely  and  picturesque  view.  The 
sun  was  just  setting,  and  the  whole  air  was  perfumed  with 
blossoms.  He  was  so  much  exhilarated  with  this  walk, 
that  he  forgot,  the  fatigues  of  the  ride,  and  the  evening 
was  spent  cheerfully.  The  ride  fi-om  Townsend  to  Keene, 
through  an  undulating  and  pleasing  country,  exhilai'ated  his 
spirits,  and,  notwithstanding  the  painful  state  of  his  arm,  he 
enjoyed  every  incident  of  the  journey.  At  Jaffrey,  this 
day,  June  5th,  he  wrote  the  last  letter  he  ever  penned  to  his 
children.  [In  consequence  of  the  state  of  his  arm,  the 
writing  is  almost  illegible.] 

'  June  6th.  At  Keene,  the  Dr.  entered  into  an  animated 
political  discussion  with  a  Democrat,  who  asserted  that 
Judge  Marshall  had,  in  a  certain  case,  exercised  powers 
40* 


474  LAST    JOURNEY    AND    ILLNESS. 

that  were  unconstitutional.  The  Dr.  confined  himself  to  a 
defence  of  Judge  Marshall,  and  vindicated  the  powers  of 
the  judiciary,  as  the  great  bulwark  of  the  Constitution,  with 
great  energy,  power,  and  perspicuity  of  thought.  At  Wal- 
pole,  where  we  dined,  he  met  one  who  had  been  his  pupil 
when  he  was  tutor  at  Yale  College.  This  meeting  agitated 
him  greatly,  and  his  nervous  spasms  returned  with  violence. 

'  His  arm  was  now  swelled  to  an  alarming  degree  ;  he 
could  no  longer  ascend  nor  descend  the  steps  of  the 
carriage  without  assistance.  The  ride,  however,  from 
Walpole  to  Putney,  exhilarated  his  spirits,  and  he  said,  in 
reference  to  the  varying  and  undulating  character  of  the 
ground,  with  the  shadows  flitting  over  it,  that  it  boi'e  a 
striking  resemblance  to  the  light  and  shade,  the  changing 
color,  of  our  life.  At  Putney,  there  was  a  Justice's  cause 
being  argued  at  the  inn  where  we  rested,  in  which  Dr. 
Buckminster  took  a  strong  interest,  and  attended  to  the 
close  of  the  sitting. 

'  June  1th.  The  next  day  being  the  Sabbath,  it  was 
spent  in  the  beautiful  little  village  of  Putney.  Our  beloved 
patient  was  calm,  but  extremely  dejected.  He  was  able, 
however,  to  read  the  Scriptures,  and  pray  in  the  family  ; 
after  which,  the  rest  of  the  party  attended  church.  In  the 
afternoon,  one  of  the  party  stating  some  objections  to  some 
passages  of  Scripture,  he  smiled,  and  observed,  mildly,  that 
"  the  gentleman  was  inclining  to  Socinianism."  During 
the  night,  he  was  extremely  ill,  and  his  arm  so  much 
swelled  that  he  could  not  move  it  without  assistance. 

'  On  Monday,  June  8th,  two  physicians  were  called  in  at 
Brattleborough,  but  they  prescribed  only  for  the  swelled 
arm.  Notwithstanding  the  illness  of  their  patient,  the  party 
proceeded  that  day  to  Whitney's,  in  Marlborough.  Here, 
while  his  wife  took  some  repose,  he  sat  by  the  window  with 
a  book  in  his  hand  ;  he  spent  the  afternoon  in  this  position, 
in  prayer,  and  repeating  parts  of  the  Psalms.  Before  he 
retired,  he  requested  one  of  the  party  to  pray,  with  as  much 
humility  and  resignation  as  possible.' 


LAST    JOURNEY    AND    ILLNESS.  475 

Since  the  night  at  Putney,  my  father  seems  to 
have  been  aware  of  his  approaching  dissolution, 
although,  from  the  fear  of  distressing  his  wife  and 
retarding  the  journey  of  his  friends,  he  consented  to 
go  on,  without  expressing  his  own  convictions  of  his 
extreme  illness.  His  nights  were  usually  without 
sleep,  and  spent  in  prayer. 

'  Tuesday,  June  9th.  We  left  Whitney's,  and  rode  to 
Hamilton's  tavern  to  breakfast.  Here  our  patient  immedi- 
ately lay  down  with  extreme  pain  in  the  shoulder  and 
breast ;  afterwards,  we  continued  the  journey  to  Berchard's 
inn,  to  dine.  Here  a  young  lady,  the  daughter  of  the  host, 
was  wholly  devoted  to  his  comfort.  Grateful  for  every 
kindness,  he  took  leave  of  her  with  a  tenderness  and 
solemnity  that  affected  every  one.  This  afternoon,  we 
observed  a  striking  change  in  his  appearance  ;  although  he 
continued  to  manifest  the  sweetest  composure  and  an 
angelic  patience,  and  not  a  complaint  escaped  him,  yet  his 
countenance  was  pale  and  sunken.  He  spoke  little,  but 
smiled  frequently.  He  seemed  to  speak  with  effort,  and 
the  natural  tone  of  his  voice  was  gone. 

'  In  the  afternoon,  we  passed  a  little  road-side  cottage, 
where  we  stopped  a  moment,  and  asked  for  a  glass  of  water 
from  a  woman,  who  sat  by  the  loom,  weaving.  She  was 
one  of  those  tender  and  feeling  natures,  that  are  habitually 
prompted  to  deeds  of  mercy  and  kindness  by  their  own 
hearts.  Observing  the  pale  and  suffering  countenance 
within  the  carriage,  as  soon  as  it  had  passed  she  felt 
constrained  to  follow  it.  She  felt  there  was  death  in  the 
carriage,  and  she  could  not  pursue  her  labors  at  the  loom. 
Leaving  her  work,  she  followed  on  to  the  lonely  and 
sequestered  inn,  where  the  travellers  had  stopped  for  the 
night,  and,  by  her  presence  of  mind,  her  disinterested 
services,  her  calm  and  trusting  piety,  she  proved  an  infinite 


476  LAST    JOURNEY    AND    ILLNESS. 

comfort  to  the  afflicted  wife  of  the  suffering  patient.  In 
this  lonely  inn,  we  were  visited  by  a  tremendous  storm. 
During  this  conflict  of  the  elements,  Dr.  Buckminster  was 
extremely  agitated.  He  sat  supported  in  a  chair,  his  voice 
feeble  and  hollow,  and  uttered  with  touching  pathos  prayers 
for  his  friends  and  himself,  humble  confessions  and  peti- 
tions for  the  mercy  of  God.  From  this  time  his  gloom 
wholly  subsided.  He  was  perfectly  aware  that  his  death 
was  near.  He  remained  perfectly  tranquil,  most  of  the 
time  silent,  but  uttering  occasionally  whispered  expressions 
of  submission,  faith,  and  hope  in  the  mercy  of  God.' 

[Some  hours  later,  on  the  same  evening,  a  thunder- 
storm was  felt  with  terrific  violence  in  Boston.  Pros- 
trate with  fever  of  the  brain,  in  the  fierce  contention 
of  life  with  death,  lay  the  beloved  son  upon  a  couch 
opposite  the  windows,  where  the  vivid  flashes  of  light- 
ning illuminated  the  whole  room,  and  the  sunken  and 
pallid  countenance,  around  which,  in  still,  repressed 
agony,  the  friends  were  gathered.  For  many  hours, 
no  ray  of  reason  had  illumined  those  closed  eyes  ;  but 
now,  when  one  of  his  sisters  arrived  from  Ports- 
mouth, he  opened  his  eyes,  looked  upon  her,  and 
smiled  :  this  smile,  always  so  enchanting,  was  given 
to  her  as  a  treasure  for  the  memory  of  after  life. 

The  thunder-storm  passed  away,  the  clouds  rolled 
off,  and  the  tranquil  stars  looked  down  into  that 
chamber.  There,  too,  the  anguish  and  the  agony 
had  passed  away,  and  that  pale  countenance  lay  in 
the  inexpressibly  sweet  repose  of  death.] 

The  night  of  the  storm  was  passed  by  the  little 
afflicted  company  of  travellers,  with  their  dying 
friend,  in  the  retired  and  solitary  inn  of  the  village 
of  Reedsborough.     He  knew  that  he  was  dying,  but 


THE    FATHER    AND    THE    SON.  477 

his  companions  were  not  aware  of  his  extreme  iUness, 
for  the  physician,  who  dwelt  at  the  distance  of  nine 
miles,  was  not  sent  for  that  evening.  Indeed,  they 
all  retired  to  rest,  and  Mrs.  Buckminster,  having  been 
much  fatigued  and  deprived  of  sleep,  was  persuaded 
by  her  husband  to  retire  for  the  night  to  another 
room.  Mr.  Bowles,  the  eldest  of  the  gentlemen,  was 
accommodated  with  a  bed  in  the  same  room  with 
their  patient.  The  night  was  spent  by  him  in  prayer, 
but,  with  his  habitual  regard  to  the  feelings  of  others, 
he  repeatedly  said  to  Mr.  Bowles,  that  he  hoped  he 
did  not  speak  so  loud  as  to  disturb  his  repose.  The 
gentleman,  who  had  been  in  early  life  a  sea-captain, 
at  length  answered,  that  'he  could  remain  undis- 
turbed through  the  roughest  weather,  and  had  often 
slept  under  his  preaching ;  but  ah.  Sir,'  he  added,  '  I 
cannot  sleep  under  such  prayers  as  these  ! ' 

When  his  wife  entered  his  chamber  the  next  morn- 
ing, he  said  to  her,  with  perfect  composure,  '  My  son 
Joseph  is  dead.'  Mrs.  Buckminster,  supposing  that 
he  had  slept  and  dreamed  that  his  son  was  dead, 
although  no  news  of  his  illness  had  reached  him, 
assured  him  that  it  was  a  dream.  '  No,'  he  replied, 
'  I  have  not  slept  nor  dreamed  ;  he  is  dead  !  '  This 
incident  is  related  as  received  from  the  lips  of  her  to 
whom  the  words  were  spoken,  and  there  can  be  no 
shadow  of  doubt  of  their  truth.* 

*  Edward  Everett,  in  a  poem  delivered  at  the  succeeding  Com- 
mencement at  Cambridge,  thus  beautifully  refers  to  this  circum- 
stance :  — 

'  Farewell,  thou  blest !   too  dark  thy  lot  appears, 
Yet  faith  looks  up,  tho'  sight  is  dim  with  tears. 
Serve  thine  own  Master  through  the  eternal  hours 
In  nearer  presence  and  with  nobler  powers. 


478  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  DEATH. 

Although  Dr.  Backmiiister  proposed  to  rise  and 
proceed  to  Bennington,  the  smallest  effort  to  move 
produced  faintness,  and  his  wife,  now  much  alarmed, 
sent  immediately  for  the  nearest  physician.  He  dwelt 
at  the  distance  of  nine  miles,  and  did  not  arrive  till 
ten  o'clock. 

In  the  mean  time,  although  his  countenance  bore 
all  the  appearance  of  death,  it  was  serene  and  tran- 
quil. All  nervous  distress  and  all  anxiety  had  passed 
away,  and,  in  those  last  hours  of  his  life,  he  enjoyed 
the  full  assurance  of  the  goodness  and  loving-kindness 
of  his  Saviour.  But  there  was  no  exultation,  no  rap- 
turous expressions  of  the  near  approach  of  heaven. 
His  principal  anxiety  was  to  soothe  and  comfort  his 
wife,  who  had  now  become  fearfully  conscious  that 
his  last  moment  was  approaching. 

The  following  paragraph  is  from  the  journal  of  his 
young  travelling  companion  :  — 

'  The  physician,  who  had  been  sent  for  previously,  now 
entered  the  room.  Before  his  arrival,  Dr.  Buckminster''s 
symptoms  had  become  extremely  alarming,  and  his  friends 
perceived  with  anguish  that  his  death  was  fast  approaching. 
He  fixed  his  languid  eyes  upon  the  physician,  and  said, 
with  some  earnestness,  "  I  am  in  the  hands  of  God ;  all 
means  are  under  his  control,  and  must  depend  on  his  bless- 
ing. I  have  no  expectation  that  any  thing  can  be  done  for 
me,  but,  for  the  sake  of  these  friends,  -I  will  submit  to  your 

Go  with  thy  Sire,  for  heaven,  in  judgment  kind, 
The  chain  of  filial  fondness  spared  to  unbind. 
Or  was  that  chord  of  love  so  finely  spun 
Which  bound  the  secret  souls  of  sire  and  son, 
That  each,  unconscious,  owned  the  mutual  blow, 
And  nature  felt  what  reason  could  not  know  I ' 


DEATH    OF    DR.    BUCKMINSTER.  479 

prescriptions."  The  doctor  pi'oceeded  to  prepare  some 
medicine,  and  said,  "  if  it  did  not  relieve  him,  the  event 
would  be  fatal."  "  Certainly,"  said  Dr.  Buckminster,  "  that 
must  follow."  Upon  a  stranger  entering  the  room,  he 
asked,  eagerly,  if  it  was  a  messenger  from  Boston,  expect- 
ing, no  doubt,  to  hear  his  son's  death  confirmed.  Some 
one  present  asked  him  if  he  were  resigned.  He  answered, 
"  I  desire  to  be  still,  and  await  the  will  of  God."  After  a 
short  time,  one  of  his  companions  asked,  "  if  he  had  any 
thing  to  impart  to  his  absent  family."  Waiting  some 
moments,  he  attempted  to  speak,  but,  his  voice  failing,  he 
fervently  pressed  the  hand  of  the  person,  and,  lifting  his 
eyes,  he  seemed  to  be  in  silent  prayer  for  many  moments, 
when  his  eyes  closed,  and  he  gently  breathed  away  his 
departing  soul.' 

It  was  in  less  than  twenty-four  hours  after  the 
death  of  the  son,  that  his  father  followed  him  to  that 
eternal  union  which  they  both  so  fervently  expected 
to  enjoy. 

Dr.  Buckminster  was  interred  at  Bennington,  with 
appropriate  funeral  solemnities.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Marsh,  of  that  place,  preached,  upon  the  occasion, 
from  the  words,  '  I  will  not  leave  you  comfortless  ; 
I  will  come  unto  you.' 

On  Friday,  the  19th  of  June,  his  bereaved  church 
and  congregation,  in  Portsmouth,  assembled  to  pay  a 
tribute  of  respect  to  his  memory.  The  pulpit  and 
the  galleries  were  himg  with  black,  and  an  impres- 
sive discourse  was  pronounced  by  Mr.  Parker,  of  the 
South  Church,  from  Acts  xx.  24,  — '  But  none  of 
these  things  move  me,'  &c.  A  writer  of  the  time 
remarks,  that  '  the  largest  and  most  respectable 
audience  that  had  ever  been  seen  in  that  ancient 
town  was  present.' 


480   FUNERAL  SERVICES  AT  PORTSMOUTH  AND  BOSTON. 

The  stone  that  was  placed  over  the  grave  of  Dr. 
Buckminster,  in  Bennington,  Vermont,  bears  the 
following  inscription,  written,  except  the  poetry,  by 
his  friend  and  brother  in  the  ministry,  Rev.  D. 
Dana,  D.  D.,  of  Newburyport :  — 

'In  memoiy  of  Rev.  Joseph  Buckminster,  D.  D.,  pastor 
of  a  church  in  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  who  died  suddenly  in 
this  vicinity,  while  on  a  journey  for  his  health,  June  10th, 
1812,  aged  61. 

'  He  was  a  fervent  and  devoted  Christian,  an  eloquent 
and  evangelical  preacher,  a  faithful  and  indefatigable  pastor, 
an  affectionate  son,  brother,  husband,  father,  and  friend. 
His  bereaved  people  have  erected  this  memorial  of  his  emi- 
nent worth  and  of  their  tender  and  respectful  grief. 

'  O  ever  honored,  ever  dear,  adieu  ! 
How  many  tender  names  are  lost  in  you  ! 
Keep  safe,  O  tomb,  thy  precious,  sacred  trust, 
Till  life  divine  awake  this  sleeping  dust !  ' 

At  the  funeral  service  in  Brattle  Street  Church,  on 
the  afternoon  of  June  1 2th,  in  commemoration  of 
the  death  of  their  pastor,  Rev.  Joseph  Stevens  Buck- 
minster, Dr.  Kirkland,  President  of  Harvard  College, 
preached  from  Job  xvi.  19,  — '  Thou  destroyest  the 
hope  of  man.'  The  sermon  was  a  touching  and 
appropriate  tribute  to  the  memory  of  his  friend.  Dr. 
Kirkland  was  earnestly  requested  to  give  a  copy  for 
the  press,  but  the  urgent  duties  of  his  office  pre- 
vented him  from  complying  with  the  wishes  of  the 
parish  and  the  friends  of  the  departed.  Many 
tributes  to  his  memory  appeared  in  the  public  jour- 
nals of  the  day,  and  in  the  sermons  of  his  brothers 
in    the    ministry.      Among    others    were    two   very 


COMMEMORATIVE    NOTICES   OF   MR.  BUCKMINSTER.      481 

beautiful  notices  of  his  character,  written  with  the 
warmth  of  friendship,  and  the  exact  delineation  of 
truth,  which  appeared  in  two  successive  numbers  of 
the  General  Repository,  from  the  pen  of  its  editor, 
Mr.  Andrews  Norton.  They  have  been  included  in 
the  edition  of  Buckminster's  Works  of  1839,  and 
would  also  have  enriched  the  pages  of  this  volume, 
had  it  not  swelled  far  beyond  its  original  intention. 

Twelve  years  after  his  death,  the  Rev.  John 
Gorham  Palfrey,  then  the  pastor  of  Brattle  Street 
Church,  pronounced  the  following  beautiful  eulogy 
upon  his  memory.  After  speaking  of  former  pastors 
of  the  church,  he  says, — 

'  Him  I  have  heard  and  known  ;  and  who,  that  has  heard 
him,  has  not  thenceforth  found  religion  invested  in  his  mind 
with  a  beauty  unknown  before  ?  He  was,  in  truth,  a 
singularly  gifted  man  ;  of  a  judgment  discriminating,  inde- 
pendent, and  exact ;  of  a  fancy  profuse  of  images  of  the 
grand  and  lovely  ;  of  a  various  and  accurate  learning ;  of 
a  sensibility  keenly  alive  to  the  importance  of  truth,  and  to 
the  dangers  and  obligations  of  men  ;  of  a  pure  and  fervid 
zeal  ;  of  a  truly  heavenly  spirit.  He  was  formed  to 
interest  men  in  religion,  —  to  win  them  and  attach  them  to 
it.  No  one  could  look  on  his  intellectual  beauty,  —  no  one 
could  hear  the  softest  tone  of  his  voice,  —  without  loving 
the  spirit  that  dwelt  in  the  expression  of  both.  He  spoke 
to  solemnize  the  levity  of  the  young,  and  inform  the  wisdom 
of  age  ;  to  shake  the  sinner's  purpose,  and  to  bind  up,  in 
the  softest  balm  of  consolation,  the  wounds  of  the  Christian 
heart.  Those  of  us  who  have  heard  him,  with  a  force  and 
feeling  all  his  own,  plead  the  claims  of  our  religion, 
describe  its  value,  and  disclose  its  hopes,  may  not  expect, 
while  we  live,  to  witness  any  thing  approaching  nearer  to 
what  we  imagine  of  a  prophet's  or  an  angel's  inspiration. 
41 


482       COMMEMORATIVE    NOTICES    OF    MR.  BUCKMINSTER. 

He  was  one  of  those  who  seem  appointed  to  the  high  and 
needful  office  of  conciliating  to  religion  the  minds  of  intel- 
lectual and  tasteful  men 

'  Nor  in  regard  alone  to  the  services  directly  rendered 
by  him  to  religion  was  this  lamented  man  a  benefactor. 
His  mind  was  one  of  those  that  leave  a  broad  impress  on 
the  character  of  the  times.  The  weight  of  his  influence, 
and  the  more  powerful  attraction  of  his  example,  gave  an 
impulse  to  the  cause  of  good  learning,  of  which  we  are 
daily  witnessing  more  and  more  brilliant  consequences. 
But  these  were  not  the  cares  the  nearest  to  his  heart. 
Though  followed  by  an  admiration  too  enthusiastic  for  a 
man  of  less  singleness  of  mind  to  bear,  without  being  led 
astray  from  his  appropriate  work,  here  was  the  scene  of  his 
favorite  labors,  and  here  he  reaped  the  most  desired  reward. 

Every  thing  here  reminds  us  of  him At  the  table 

of  Christian  fellowship,  I  meet  the  disciples  whom  he  led  to 
that  feast,*  and  his  presence  almost  seems  to  be  with  us 
there.  Already  I  find  encouragement  and  friendship  in 
those  whose  eai'liest  remembered  impressions  of  religion 
are  associated  with  the  pathos  of  his  melting  tones,  the 
gloiy  of  his  speaking  eye.  I  stand  by  death-beds,  cheered 
by  happy  hopes  of  immortality  which  he  taught  to  glow, 
and  witness  the  Christian  patience  of  mourners,  to  whom 
he  was  the  minister  of  that  lasting  peace  which  the  world 
cannot  give  nor  take  away.  Happy  servant  of  his  God, 
who  can  leave  such  enduring  memorials  of  so  short  a  life  ! 
who,  long  after  the  first  burst  of  general  distress  at  his 
early  departure  has  been  hushed,  survives  in  the  virtuous 
purposes  of  manhood,  and  the  calm  meditation  of  age  ! 
Happy,  whose  epitaph  is  recorded  in  the  religious  dedica- 
tion of  so  many  grateful  hearts  !  There  is  no  other  dis- 
tinction but  is  mean  compared  with  such  a  glory  !  .  .  .  . 
And  when,  at  last,  he  meets  them  above,  can  any  thing  be 

*  See  Appendix  No.  V. 


MONUMENT   AT    MOUNT    AUBURN.  483 

wanting  to  the  worth  of  his  crown  of  rejoicing,  when  they 
remember,  together,  that  it  was  by  his  agency  that  God 
made  them  associates  for  angels  ?  '  * 

With  these  beautiful  words  I  close  the  memoir  of 
my  brother,  trusting  that  his  memory  may  yet 
survive  to  encourage  and  comfort  many  hearts. 

'  One  other  name,  with  power  endowed, 

To  cheer  and  guide  us  onward  as  we  press ; 
One  other  image  on  the  heart  bestowed. 
To  dwell  there,  beautiful  in  holiness.' 

June  12,  1842,  exactly  thirty  years  from  the  day 
of  his  funeral,  through  the  surviving  affection  of  the 
Society  of  Brattle  Street  Church,  his  remains  were 
removed  from  the  tomb  of  Mr.  Lyman,  at  Waltham, 
and  placed  beneath  a  chaste  and  beautiful  monument 
of  white  marble,  consecrated  to  his  memory,  in  the 
cemetery  of  Mount  Auburn.  By  the  arrangement  of 
the  faithful  memory  of  those  who  had  witnessed 
the  attachment  of  brother  and  sister,  she  who  had 
watched  over  him  in  life  was  not  divided  from  him 
in  the  sacred  repose  of  one  consecrated  tomb.  Their 
united  memory  is  such 

'  As  hallows  and  makes  pure  all  gentle  hearts. 
His  hope  is  treacherous  only  whose  love  dies 
With  beauty,  which  is  varying  every  hour; 
But  in  chaste  hearts,  uninfluenced  by  the  power 
Of  outward  change,  there  blooms  a  deathless  flower, 
That  breathes  on  earth  the  air  of  Paradise.' 


*  From  Rev.  J.  G.  Palfrey's  sermon,  preached  at  the  church  in 
Brattle  Square,  July  18,  1824. 


APPENDIX 


NO.  I. 

There  is  some  uncertainty  about  the  original  family  name.  It 
appears  from  the  records  of  deeds  in  the  Suffolk  office,  and  in  the 
registry  of  wills  in  the  Probate  office,  that  the  first  and  second 
generations  after  coming  to  this  country  wrote  the  name  Buck- 
master.  The  Almanac  and  Prognosticator  of  Thomas  Buckminster, 
of  the  year  1599,  now  in  the  possession  of  the  writer,  has  descended 
in  the  family  from  the  day  of  its  author,  and  proves  that  in  the  year 
of  its  publication  the  name  was  written  as  it  is  at  present. 

Joseph  Stevens  Buckminster,  when  in  England,  took  the  trouble 
to  search  into  the  antiquity  of  the  family  name,  and  found  that  a 
coat  of  arms,  '  "  Argent,  seme,  des  jliurs  de  lis,  a  Lyon,  rampant, 
sable,'^  was  confirmed  by  Sir  Gilbert  Dethick,  Garter  king-at-arms, 
the  24  March,  1578,  in  the  21st  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  to  William 
Buckminster,  son  and  heir  of  Richard  Buckminster,  eldest  son  of 
John  Buckminster  of  Peterborough,  Northamptonshire,  and  to  all 
the  posterity  of  the  said  John  Buckminster  for  ever.'  —  MSS.  in 
Ashmole,  No.  834,  p.  20;  Guillim's  Heraldry,  6th  ed.,  London, 
1724,  p.  276. 

In  the  English  records  in  Westminster,  printed  by  the  order  of 
William  IV.,  A.  D.  1216,  is  the  name  of  'Adam  Bukeminstr' 
and  '  Robertum  filium  suum.'  It  seems,  therefore,  that  the  name 
as  it  appears  written  in  the  Suffi)lk  office  is  a  corruption  of  the 
original  name  in  England. 
41* 


486  APPENDIX. 

No.  II. 
Sermons  Published  by  Dr.  Buckminster. 

1.  A  Discourse  delivered  December  1 1th,  1783,  the  Day  of 
the  General  Thanksgiving  throughout  the  United  States  after  the 
Ratification  of  the  Treaty  of  Peace  and  Acknowledgment  of  their 
Independence.     Published  by  request. 

2.  A  Discourse  delivered  November  1,  1789,  when  the  President 
of  the  United  States  visited  Portsmouth. 

3.  A  Sermon  delivered  February  27,  1794,  at  the  Interment  of 
Mrs.  Porter  of  Rye. 

4.  Two  Discourses  delivered  February  28,  1796,  upon  the  Duty 
of  Republican  Citizens  in  the  Choice  of  their  Rulers.  '  Dulce  et 
decorum  est  pro  patria  mori.'     Published  by  request. 

5.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  Hampton,  March  2d,  1796,  a  Day 
devoted  by  the  Congregational  Church  in  that  Place  to  Fasting 
and  Prayer.  Being  Remarks  upon  the  Dispute  and  Separation  of 
Paul  and  Barnabas.     Published  by  Desire  of  the  Hearers. 

6.  A  Discourse  delivered  in  Portsmouth,  November  15,  1798,  on 
Thanksgiving  Day.     Published  by  request. 

7.  A  Sermon  delivered  in  Portsmouth  on  the  Lord's  Day  after 
the  Melancholy  Tidings  of  the  Death  of  George  Washington,  the 
Father,  Guardian,  and  Ornament  of  his  Country.     December,  1799. 

8.  Two  Sermons  delivered  in  the  First  Church  in  Portsmouth 
January  5th,  1800,  the  House  being  shrouded  in  Mourning  in  Token 
of  Respect  to  the  Memory  of  General  Washington. 

9.  A  Sermon  preached  to  the  United  Congregational  Churches 
in  Portsmouth,  February  22d,  1800,  the  Day  appointed  by  Congress 
to  pay  Respect  to  the  Memory  of  Washington,  Published  by 
request. 

10.  A  Discourse  delivered  in  Portsmouth,  December  14,  1800, 
the  Anniversary  of  the  Death  of  General  Washington.  'The 
memory  of  the  just  is  blessed.' 

11.  A  Discourse  occasioned  by  the  Desolating  Fire  in  Ports- 
mouth, December,  1803.     Published  by  request. 

12.  A  Discourse  preached  before  the  Portsmouth  Female  Char- 
itable School,  October  14,  1803.     Published  by  request. 

13  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Ordination  of  Rev.  J.  S.  Buck- 
minster to  the  Pastoral  Charge  of  the  Church  in  Brattle  Street, 
Boston,  December  30,  1805. 


APPENDIX.  487 

14.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Interment  of  Rev.  Samuel 
Haven,  D.  D.,  and  of  his  Wife,  Mrs.  Margaret  Haven,  who  sur- 
vived her  Husband  but  thirty-six  hours,  March  3d,  1806.  '  In 
their  death  they  were  not  divided.' 

15.  Domestic  Happiness.  A  Sermon  delivered  in  Portsmouth 
February  23,  1803.  Published  by  request  of  the  Young  Men  of 
the  Parish. 

16.  A  Discourse  on  Baptism,  1803.  '  Suffer  little  children  and 
forbid  them  not  to  come  to  me ;  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
heaven.'  —  Jesus  Christ. 

17.  A  Discourse  upon  Christian  Charity,  being  the  Conclusion 
of  the  Sermon  upon  Baptism,  1803. 

18.  A  Sermon  delivered  at  the  Installation  of  Rev.  James  Milti- 
more  to  the  Charge  of  the  Fourth  Church  in  Newbury,  April  27, 
1808. 

19.  A  Sermon  delivered  before  the  Female  Charitable  Society 
of  Newburyport,  May,  1809.  Published  at  the  request  of  the 
Managers. 

20.  A  Sermon  preached  at  the  Installation  of  Rev.  James  Thurs- 
ton in  Manchester,  N.  H.,  May,  1809. 

21.  A  Sermon  delivered  at  the  Interment  of  Rev.  Moses  Hem- 
menway,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  First  Chuich  of  Christ  in  Wells, 
Maine,  1811. 

22.  Substance  of  three  Discources  delivered  in  Park  Street 
Church,  Boston,  August  11,  1811.  'I  am  not  ashamed  of  the 
gospel  of  Christ.'  —  St.  Paul. 

Beside  the  above-mentioned  Sermons,  Dr.  Buckminster  pub- 
lished a  short  memoir  of  Dr.  Maclintock  of  Greenland,  N.  H.  He 
was  also  one  of  the  authors  of  the  '  Piscaiaqua  River  Prayer  Book 
for  the  Use  of  Families,'  and  a  constant  contributor  to  the  pages 
of  the  '  Piscataqua  Missionary  Magazine.' 


No.  HI. 

Publications  of  Rev.  Joseph  Stevens  Buckminster. 

During  his  life,  he  published  only  two  sermons,  viz  :  — 

1.  A  Discourse  delivered  December    18,    1808,  on  the  Lord's 

Day  after  the  Public  Funeral  of  Hon.  James  Sullivan,  Governor  of 

Massachusetts. 


488  APPENDIX. 

2.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Interment  of  Rev.  William 
Emerson,  May,  1811. 

A  Discourse  pronounced  before  the  Society  of  Phi  Beta  Kappa 
at  Cambridge,  August  31,  1809.     Published  in  the  Anthology. 

His  contributions  to  periodical  publications  during  his  life  were, 
as  nearly  as  can  be  ascertained,  as  follovv's  :  — 

To  the  Literary  Miscellany:  —  Review  of  Dr.  Millar's  Retro- 
spect of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  Vol.  I.,  p.  82.  Translation  of 
an  Idyl  of  Meleager,  and  of  an  Inscription  to  Somnus,  Vol.  I.,  pp. 
196,  197. 

To  the  Monthly  Anthology  and  Review  :  — 

Review  of  the  Salem  Sallust,  Vol.  II.  549. 

Remarker,  No.  5,  on  Criticism,  Vol.  III.  19. 

Review  of  Sherman  on  the  Trmity,  Vol.  III.  249. 

Introduction  to  Retrospective  Notices  of  American  Literature, 
Vol.  V.  54. 

Review  of  Logan's  Version  of  Cato  Major,  Vol.  V.  281,  340, 
391. 

Remarker,  No.  34,  on  Gray's  Poetry,  A^ol.  V.  367.  Defence  of 
Gray,  Vol.  V.  484. 

Editor's  Address  to  Vol.  VI.  1. 

Description  of  the  Fall  of  the  Rossburg  and  destruction  of  Gol- 
dau,  first  published  in  the  Anthology. 

Sketch  of  French  Literature  and  Science,  published  as  a  '  Letter 
from  Paris  '  in  the  Anthology. 

Review  of  Thompson's  Septuagint,  Vol.  VII.  396.  Continued, 
Vol.  VIII.  193. 

Review  of  Griesbach's  New  Testament,  Vol.  X.  107.  Con- 
tinued, p.  403.     Notices  of,  Vols.  V.  and  VL 

In  the  General  Repository  and  Review  :  — 

On  the  Accuracy  and  Fidelity  of  Griesbach,  Vol.  I.  89.  Con- 
tinued, 363. 

Translation  of  the  Article  FNEYMA  in  Schleusner's  Lexicon, 
with  Notes,  Vol.  I.  296. 

Review  of  Rev.  W.  Emerson's  History  of  the  First  Church, 
Vol.  I.  374,  with  the  exception  of  the  first  paragraph,  which  was 
added  by  the  editor,  Mr.  Andrews  Norton. 

Mr.  Buckminster  published  a  Collection  of  Hymns  '  for  the  Use 
of  the  Church  in  Brattle  Street,'  1808. 


APPENDIX.  489 

Well-beloved's  Devotional  Exercises  for  the  Use  of  Young  Per- 
sons, 1808. 

Zollikoffer's  Sermons  to  Foung  Men,  The  last  two  at  his  own 
expense. 

The  first  selection  of  his  sermons,  consisting  of  twenty-four,  in 
large  octavo,  was  publisJied  in  1814,  with  a  memoir  by  Rev.  S.  C. 
Thacher.     It  passed  through  three  editions. 

The  second  selection,  consisting  of  twenty-two  sermons,  octavo, 
was  published  in  1829. 

In  1839,  James  Munroe  &  Co.  published  'The  Works  of  Joseph 
S.  Buckminster,  with  Memoirs  of  his  Life,'  two  volumes,  duo- 
decimo. This  edition  includes  Mr.  Thacher's  Memoir,  and  Notices 
of  Mr  Buckminster  by  Mr,  Norton,  Mr,  Charles  Eliot,  and  Rev. 
Mr,  Colman,  It  also  includes  extracts  from  sermons  first  published 
in  the  '  Christian  Disciple.' 

At  the  commencement  of  the  publication  of  the  '  Christian  Dis- 
ciple,' the  manuscript  sermons  of  Mr.  Buckminster  were  placed 
in  the  hands  of  its  editors.  Extracts  were  made  from  forty-four 
sermons,  which  were  published  in  the  successive  numbers  of  that 
periodical. 


No.  IV. 

Joseph  S.  Buckminster's  library  was  sold,  by  printed  catalogue, 
at  public  auction,  in  August,  1812,  Here  are  mentioned  the  editions 
of  the  Bible  and  Commentaries  belonging  to  his  library,  with  their 
cost  in  Europe  :  — 

Biblia  Sacra  Polyglotta  Londinensia,  Walton.  Lond,  1657. 
And  Lexicon  Heptaglotton.  Castell,  Lond.  1669,  [A  fine  copy, 
containing  the  famous  dedication  to  Charles  the  Second,  the  very 
existence  of  which  has  been  denied  by  bibliographers.  See  Gen. 
Repos.,  No.  2.]     Price,  $  100. 

Biblia  Hebraica.  Cum  variis  lectionibus  ex  ingenti  codicum 
copia  a  B.  Kennicott  &  J.  B.  de  Rossi  collatorum.  Doederlein  & 
Meisner.  Lipsia.  1792.  4to.  [Blue  morocco.  Largest  and  best 
paper.]      $9. 

Biblia  Hebraica.  Ex  edit.  Athise,  4to.  [Imperfect.  Inter- 
leaved, with  some  MS,  notes.] 

Biblia  Graeca.     V.  T.  Graecum  ex  versione  LXX.  Interpr.  juxta 


490 


APPENDIX. 


exemplar  Vaticanum.  Lond.  excud.  Rog.  Daniel.  1653,  [A  large 
paper  copy  in  4to.  of  Daniel's  Septiiagint,  containing  the  Apocrypha 
and  New  Testament.     Very  rare  and  precious]      $  10. 

Biblia  Grsca  LXX.  Interp.  ed.  J.  E.  Grabe.  Ex  codice  Alex- 
andrino.  Oxon.  1707-9,  8  vols.  8vo.  [The  letter-press  is 
exactly  the  same  with  that  of  the  folio.]      $  20. 

Novum  Testamentum  Grajcum  J.  J.  Wetstenii.  Amst.  1751. 
[Interleaved,  in  4  vols  folio.  Russia  backs  and  edges,  and  perfectly 
new.     Cost  in  London,  1807,  £9  Us.  6d.  sterling.]      $50, 

Nov.  Test,  Graec.  Griesbachii.  Ed.  2da.  Lond.  &  Hal.  Sax. 
Vol.  I.  1796.  II.  1806.  Royal  8vo.  Commonly  called  the  Duke 
of  Grafton's  edition. 

Nov.  Test.  GrfEc.  G.  D,  T.  M.  D.  (a  Gerhardo  de  Trajecto 
Mosae  Doctore.)  Editio  altera.  Amst.  1735.  8vo.  [Commonly 
called  CurcellsBus's  edition,  though  erroneously.  It  is  in  8vo  ,  and 
not  in  12mo.,  as  Dibdin  (see  p.  Ixix.)  and  others  assert.] 

Poll  Synopsis  Crilicorum,  Fiancofurti  ad  Masnum.  1694.  5 
vols.  4to.  [Much  more  convenient  than  the  common  folio  ed.] 
$25. 

Grotii  Opera  Omn.  Theologica.  Amst.  1679,  Do.  Epistolae.  5 
vols.  fol.  [The  first  3  vols,  contain  his  commentary  on  the  Old 
and  New  Testament.  The  5th  vol.,  containing  his  letters,  may  be 
sold  separately.]      $25. 

Clerici  (i.  e.  Le  Clerc's)  Commentarius  in  Y.  T.  4  vols.  fol. 
$30. 

Clerici  Harmonia  Evang.     1  vol.  fol.     Amst.     1710. 

Clerici  et  Hammondi  in  N.  T.  Ed.  2da.  Francof.  1714.  2  vols. 
fol,     [In  all,  9  vols,  folio,  new.] 

Bibliotheca  Fratrum  Polonorum.  Irenop.  1656.  9  vols,  fol, 
[This  set  contains  the  9th  vol.,  which  is  very  rarely  to  be  met  with. 
See  Bp.  Watson's  catalogue  of  books  in  divinity  for  this  and  many 
of  the  large  theological  works  here  offered  for  sale.]      $  50. 

Houbiganlii  Notae  Criticse  cum  ejusdem  Prolegomenis  juxta  ex- 
emplar Parisiense  denuo  recusae.  Francof,  ad  Ma;n.  1777,  2  vols, 
4to.  [This  work  will  supply  the  place  of  Houbigant's  splendid 
Bible.] 

Kennicotti  Dissertatio  Generalis  in  V.  T.  fol.  bds.  Oxon. 
1780.      $3. 

Trommii  Concordantiae  Graecae  Versionis.  Amst.  1718.  2  vols 
folio,     [Fine  copy,  uncut.]      $  15, 


APPENDIX.  491 

Schmidii  Tameion  al.  Concordantiae  Nov.  Test.  Grsec.  Witte- 
berg.     1638.     folio.      $  10. 

Robertson  Thesaurus,  —  sive  Concordantiale  Lexicon  Hebreeo- 
Latinum  Biblicum.     Lond.      1680.     4to. 

Arnald's  Critical  Commentary  on  the  Apocryphal  Books,  beino- 
a  Continuation  of  Patrick  and  Lowth.  Lojid.  1744-52.  folio. 
Scarce. 

Pocock's  Theological  Works,  edited  by  Leon.  Tvvells.  Lond. 
1740.  2  vols.  Containing  his  Porta  Moris  and  Commentary  on 
Hosea,  Joel,  Micah,  and  Malachi. 

Toinardi  Harmonia  Evangeliorum  Graeco  Latina.  Parisiis. 
1707.  fol.  [For  the  value  of  this  work,  see  Marsh's  Michaelis, 
Vol.  TIL,  Pt.  n  ,  p.  41.] 

Whitby's  Paraphrase  and  Commentary  on  the  New  Testament. 
Fifth  ed.     Lond.     1727.     2  vols.  fol.      $  15. 

Beausobre  et  L'Enfant  Nouveau  Testament.  Nouvelle  ed.  cor- 
rige  par  les  Auteurs.  Amst.  1741.  2  vols.  4to.  [This  is  the 
ed.  opt,  of  this  most  excellent  work.]      $  12. 

The  New  Test  ,  Greek  and  English.  London:  Printed  for  J. 
Roberts.  1729.  2  vols.  8vo.  [Large  paper,  very  rare.  Editor  and 
translator  unknown  ;  supposed  to  be  Dr.  Mace  or  Macey.  See 
Dibdin,  Introd.,  p.  Ixv.]      $6. 

Wakefield's  Translation  of  the  New  Testament.  2d  ed.  Lond. 
1795.     2  vols,  royal  8vo.     Large  paper.      $9. 

Nov.  Test.  Gr.  Nova  versione  Latina  illustrata  auctore  H.  A. 
Schott.  Lips.  1805.  8vo.  Bound  in  2  vols.  Russia.  [Text 
Griesbach's,  with  the  most  important  various  readings  under  it, 
and  various  renderings  under  the  Latin  version  ;  '  in  usum  Gym- 
nasiorum  et  Academiarum  editum  ']      $6. 

La  Sainte  Bible.  Expliquee  par  des  Notes  de  Theologie  et  de 
Critique  sur  la  Version  ordinaire  des  Eglises  Reformees,  revue  sur 
les  Origineaux,  &c.,  par  David  Martin.  Amst.  1707.  2  vols.  fol. 
$6. 

La  Sainte  Bible,  ou  V.  et  N.  T.,  traduites  par  les  Pasteurs  et 
les  Professeurs  de  Gendve.  A  Geneve.  1805.  Last  edition,  cor- 
rected.    3  vols.  8vo.      $7  50. 


492  APPENDIX. 


No.  V. 


During  Mr.  Buckminster's  ministry  of  seven  years  and  four 
months,  two  hundred  and  fifty-nine  were  baptized  (one  of  them 
eighty-three  years  old),  and  eighty-eight  persons  were  added  to 
the  church  in  Brattle  Street. 


No.  VI. 


The  engraving  prefixed  to  this  volume  of  Dr.  Buckminster  is 
the  only  portrait  ever  taken  of  him.  Tt  was  painted  at  about  the 
age  of  thirty-eight  years.  The  general  outline  of  the  face  and 
figure  are  correct ;  but  the  face,  at  least  to  those  who  were  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  him,  is  extreinely  deficient  in  the  elevated, 
intellectual,  and  ha;rmonious  expression  which  belonged  to  the 
original. 


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